Wars of the Bhaalspawn
by Capt. Incredible
Summary: The Throne of Bhaal can no longer be left unoccupied- a war for the Throne has begun. With his closest companions at his side, one Bhaalspawn sorcerer moves ever closer to claiming the power of Bhaal for his own, regardless of desire or intent.
1. Part 1: Prologue

**Part 1: Wheels of Prophecy**

**Prologue:**

**"You are indeed family. No other could have lived to oppose me in person." - Sarevok Anchev, at the Temple of Bhaal beneath Baldur's Gate. **

Athkatla. The City of Coin. The shining gem, the crown jewel of the Amnish lands, a hub of trading and activity that promised wealth and fortune and a thousand other pleasures, illegal or legal. From a distance or maybe from the skies above, it looked every bit as glamorous as the stories made it out to be. Towering with ornate buildings, thick walls that surrounded the whole of the city and a never-ending bustle of people going about their lives within, it could be mistaken as something far more than it really was. For deep down, the shining diamond, the beautiful woman, the beautiful marble-work... it was rotten. A lump of coal, a half-dead whore, dust in the wind. Every day, lives were bought and sold like goods at market while thieves and wizards ran the government, in truth if not in name. True to it's name, in the City of Coin, everything had a price. Everything.

Not to say there weren't good people living there. Good men and women who tried their best to remain untouched by the corruption and the deceit that leeched the life from everyone else who made their residence within the city walls. The Temples were loyal to the faithful who followed after them, and nobody would dare question the virtues, the incorruptibility of the Order of the Radiant Heart. Perhaps that was why the Order made their headquarters within the city- an attempt to balance out the darkness, to prove that there were those the city could not buy, could not touch.

That night, the city would once again attempt to prove the Order wrong.

In a cobblestone alleyway surrounded on both sides by towering buildings, the high-class structures of the Slums showing as the Bridge District slowly took shape, there was a battle, if it could be called that, taking place. Shadows flashed across the walls showing the afterimages of men fighting, of men dying. Grunts echoed out of the alleyway along with the sounds of metal striking metal, and flesh hitting the ground as the lifeblood of far too many was spilled into the cracks and crevices of the ground, seeping below and into the foundations of the City of Coin. Any onlooker might've been horrified by the one-sided affair- five men and women gathered together in a semi-circle, surrounded by the bodies and corpses of those who had attacked them that night. More were surrounding them, still trying to bring them down... but judging from the looks of annoyance each of the defenders bore, the fight was little challenge.

In the moonlight, the half-shadowed features of a youthful woman were illuminated, her pink hair a deep red. The scars on her face marred the youth and innocence that should have flowed naturally from her... innocence that hadn't quite all been there since her experiences in the asylum known as Spellhold. She let a tight smile cross her face as she raised her bow again, loosing an arrow that struck one of their opponents in the arm, pinning him to the wall he had been creeping by. Ignoring his screams, she glanced behind her and spoke with a cheery nonchalance, "I'm kinda beginning to feel sorry for these guys. They're in way over their head..."

As if in reply, the druid with chestnut hair and emerald eyes leapt out from their miniature defensive formation, using the spear she held to act as a vault, sending her flying into another would-be attacker foot-first. Teeth flew from his mouth along with a jet of blood as he hit the ground, unmoving for the moment and probably for several hours afterward. All things considered, he was lucky to get off so easy. "It is not these ruffians that warrant our concern. We do not have the time for this."

"She's right- and we're not going to make it in time if this keeps up. Minsc- you think you can clear a path for us?" the other half-elf among them, a sorcerer in slate gray robes with a long quarterstaff glanced at the mammoth of a man who had just finished fighting off another two thugs. The ranger grinned, nodding at their leader before lowering his shoulder and charging toward the exit of the alleyway, where the paths opened up into the Bridge District proper.

Any who had thought to halt their escape route had not counted on facing a full-on charge by a seven-foot tower of muscle wielding a gleaming Githyanki blade. It wasn't long before they had broken out into the clear, their only pursuit a half-hearted volley of crossbow bolts that were nowhere near to hitting any of them. The blonde-haired elf, her petite frame hiding the massive powers she commanded, spared a glance behind them as they kept moving as quickly as they dared, not wanting to miss their target in the dark. "Who do you think they were? Surely not the Shadow Thieves..."

"No... Linvail can't afford to lose men like that, especially since they're still rebuilding from the guild war. My guess, some rival guild trying to take advantage of the Shadow Thieves' weakened state thinking they could make a reputation by killing us. Granted, I just made that up on the spot, so take it as you will." the sorcerer said, flashing a grin at the elf behind him as he attempted to keep his breath, the five still racing toward the center of the District. The house couldn't be much further now...

"Your detective skills are astounding, Greywulf." Jaheira's wry tones, not quite as acerbic as she might've been in years past, spoke to her concern over the situation they were still facing. The Saviors of Suldenesselar: Greywulf, Imoen, Minsc, Jaheira, Aerie. Their adventures in the elven city were somehow already known outside the elven home, a fact that aggravated those within to no end. Still, none of it mattered right then. All that mattered was the life of one man- and the course it would take if they didn't stop him from the path he was walking.

"Damn it..." Imoen swore quietly as they reached the building they sought. Taller and grander than any other structure in the District, this house, nay, this mansion spoke to the affluence and power that the owner must have enjoyed. Power and affluence that would do him absolutely no good, now. It hadn't helped the two guards outside the door who were now lying on the ground, their skulls caved in with a mace, undoubtedly. It was his weapon of choice, after all.

As they ran closer, the sounds of battle could be heard echoing from the door, still ajar and letting a slit of light pour from inside. Battle- perhaps he hadn't reached his target yet? The five of them exchanged glances for a moment before charging the door-

Inside the dining hall of the mansion, two men struggled for dominance, each one completely and totally indwelt with hatred for the other. There was no quarter, no sympathy, no nobility. One of them was a man with his best years behind him, gray beginning to show at his temples, marring the brown with its dull flow. He was holding his side with pain, and it was obvious that he had suffered several glancing blows from his opponent in the fight thus far. The dining table was completely splintered, broken in two and the chairs surrounding in broken into dozens of pieces. It was like a whirlwind had been through the room- the older man's opponent snarled another challenge, charging behind the shield bearing his family's crest and his mace raised high. "For my father! For my sister! For your evil, Saerk, you will die this day!"

Saerk Farrahd barely blocked the downswing of the mace with his own blade, but he chose the wrong angle to deflect it; the mace's enchanted head cracked the steel of the sword, and a second swing shattered it completely. He looked at the broken hilt in his hand with despair, backing away as the knight drove him to the wall, raising his mace in victorious fury, ready to crush his skull completely-

"Anomen, stop!!"

Anomen Delryn shuddered with the effort it took him to avoid killing the man before him that very moment, though he did not turn to see the five who stood behind him. He knew who they were. It was their guidance, their aid that had brought him to this point. That had brought him into the ranks of the Order. Their guidance that had let this man before him get away with killing his sister, then his father.

"I know what you will say to me, and I tell you now that I can no longer let this pass. What Saerk has done cannot, will not be forgiven! The blood of my family is on his head!" Anomen spat, his handsome features twisted by rage.

"This isn't the Way of the Order. You know that. You took a vow-" Greywulf started, but the young knight cut him off with a shout of pained fury.

"And Helm forgive me, those vows mean nothing to me now! Will the law bring my family back to me? My vows are bitter ashes in my mouth- I would give them all up to feel this man taste vengeance for what has done! Tell me you would not do the same!" Anomen cried out, still keeping his mace trained on Saerk, still refusing to turn his gaze, as though the man would vanish into thin air should he let him out of his sight for the briefest of moments.

"Yes... Minsc would do the same." the big ranger spoke up, his features full of worry and concern. "But Minsc is not a knight... and Minsc's desire for vengeance is why he could not be. That is why you are different. You must make choices that we cannot."

"Don't you understand?!" Anomen half-pleaded, half-shouted. "I cannot simply let this pass! As a knight I am sworn to uphold the law, but as a son... my duty as a son demands blood, revenge! The rage inside me will accept nothing less!"

Jaheira opened her mouth to speak, but Greywulf raised a hand, shaking his head with finality. Anomen had always faced problems with his anger, with the rage inside of him. They'd helped him overcome much of it over the past few months... but it couldn't always be this way. They couldn't always pull him back from the abyss that his inner demons pushed him to. He exhaled, then spoke once more. "We won't stop you, Anomen. Just ask yourself once more. Is this... is this revenge, really what you want?"

Anomen did not even pause to answer. "Yes. With all my heart, I want this man dead."

Greywulf nodded; that was it then- "It's not what Keldorn what have wanted."

Aerie's voice was like a gentle whisper in a thunderstorm- she continued quietly, the conflicted knight listening without speaking. "You knew him better than we did... and you know what he would have done. What he would have told you if he was still here."

Nobody made a sound, the only noise being that of Saerk's pained breathing. Anomen shut his eyes tightly, pulling his gaze away from Saerk for the first time. "He wouldn't have done this. He would've told me I was better... better than the rage-filled monster I've become. All I ever wanted was to be half the knight he was. To live up to just a hint of the path he tried to set for me as a mentor, as a friend... Helm take me, I cannot bear this!"

Anomen screamed a cry to the heavens and swung his mace as hard as he could manage. Saerk cringed in anticipation of the blow- the weapon crunched into the wall beside his head, Anomen yanking it back immediately and turning on his heel, refusing to look at the murderer behind him any further. His eyes were red and his face tight with emotion... but the anger, the rage, was once more under control. Once more in check. He passed by the five who had come to his aid, stopping briefly to meet their silently approving gazes. "You... all of you, have saved me once more. I must go back to the Order Hall and tell Sir Ryan Trawl of what happened here- I have still killed men in an unjust manner and I must atone for that. If the Order decides to banish me for these deaths... then so be it."

"We'll come and see you when it's all over." Aerie smiled gently as she put her hand on his shoulder pauldron. He looked into her eyes, and for the first time in a while, a smile crossed his bearded features, if a weak one.

Anomen Delryn departed, leaving behind broken furniture and a broken man- the sound of his footsteps slowly echoed into the distance as he made the trek back to the Order Hall. Saerk groaned and attempted to stagger forward, holding his side in pain- Minsc slammed him back into the wall, a meaty fist hitting him in the same location as Anomen had struck him during their short battle. He screamed in pain while Jaheira leaned forward, speaking in low, deadly tones. "Be very thankful that Anomen chose the path he did. If it were up to us, you would not survive to see the sun rise this morn. As it stands, I would not be surprised if the city guards will be making a visit here sometime soon. Very soon."

Jaheira pulled away, her eyes still glaring daggers of venom at the corrupt murderer- the five of them began filing out, Saerk snarling a curse and managing a half-strangled shout after them, "Do you know who I am?! Do you think that I c-can be bullied around by some inbred mercenaries? W-who do you think you are?!!"

Imoen was the last one to leave- she turned, grinning ever so sweetly before leaning over to snatch a particularly shiny ring that had been under glass, since shattered in the battle, on a table by the door out. "You really don't want to know."


	2. Part 1: A Gathering of Forces

The glimmer of reflection off the smooth marble surfaces, lit only by candles and torches within the majestic structure, was enough to make any man pause in appreciation for the beauty, the majesty that had been so carefully constructed. Statues of old knights, long since passed away; memorials of heroes that sacrificed themselves for the sake of others. Even statues of the gods that these men and women, the knights of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, worshipped with a zeal unmatched by any but the most devout of clerics.

In the grand chambers where the judging of knights and squires took place, a man's fate was being decided once more. Outside the mighty oak doors that maintained the secrecy of events which took place within, five adventurers waited with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. It had been a long journey for Anomen Delryn, going from arrogant, impetuous squire to a conflicted man with a good heart who tried with all his might to suppress the darkness that lay buried within him. Had he been alone in his journeys, attempting to reach knighthood in the ranks of the Order, he would have fallen long ago. As it stood now, after achieving his goals and then coming within inches of throwing it all away in the pursuit of revenge, those who had stood by him and helped his cause could only wait for the judgment passed down by Sir Ryan Trawl, paladin of the Order.

Imoen glanced at the closed doors, unable to keep from fidgeting as they waited. She'd tried to hear what was being proclaimed inside a few moments ago, ear pressed to the door firmly, but a look of warning from Jaheira had gotten the girl to return to her seat, a mahogany bench that sat opposite the doors, placed so that any who waited for their fate inside the Hall of Judgment would face it directly when the time had come to enter. Still, Imoen felt no reason to avoid swinging her legs impatiently, her mouth twitching as she tried to find something to occupy her attention while time passed. Finally another sigh escaped her lips, the thief-mage unable to take the quiet any longer. She turned to Aerie, seated beside her, asking the question they'd all been internally voicing for the past half hour. "So... whaddya think? Is he gonna be okay?"

"I don't know." Aerie confessed quietly, her blue eyes never leaving the door in case they were flung open when she wasn't watching. "T-they've been in there an awful long time... you'd think they would have said yes or no right away and been done with it."

"Minsc sees no reason for this." the ranger grumbled, adjusting the scabbard at his side so that he could sit more comfortably. "Anomen did not kill the man who killed his father. He showed himself very much a knight. What else is there to talk about?"

Jaheira, her hand at her chin and supporting her as they waited, turned and flipped a few braids of hair from her face as she replied. "Perhaps not, but Anomen has demonstrated qualities that the Order must certainly be concerned about. It would be unwise for them not to consider whether the knightling is truly ready to join their ranks-"

The doors creaking open cut Jaheira off, and all eyes went to the armored man who strode from the Hall of Judgment, his expression carefully neutral. The five men and women who had accompanied him for the past few weeks immediately stood and came to him, awaiting word of the judgment he had received. Anomen ran one gauntleted hand through his beard, exhaling quietly before speaking. "As always, the judgment of Helm is fair. For my actions that caused the deaths of the men who guarded Saerk's home, I have been stripped of the rank of Knight of the Order."

An immediate chorus of complaints and protests erupted from those beside him, but Anomen raised a hand, trying to calm them before their voices caught the attention of one of the Knights passing through the Order Hall. "Still, the Neutral god sees acts of both good and evil. For sparing the life of Saerk, I have been kept within the folds of the Order, though once again I find myself a squire, working to prove my worth before I receive knighthood once more."

Greywulf stopped his own protests, nodding in acceptance. Fair enough- the judgment could not be argued, and from the calmness within Anomen's features, it would seem that the young man was slowly coming to terms with his own demons. "So... more mercenary work from the Copper Coronet then?"

Anomen smiled briefly, closing his eyes as he shook his head no. "Nay, there are few things in this world that will draw me back to that den of filth... Hendak's management aside, of course."

"Of course." Jaheira nodded calmly. "What will you do then? Surely you must have a plan of sorts to prove yourself once more."

"There are always opportunities for good works in the Realms... I shall simply have to seek them out rather than waiting for them to find me." Anomen confessed, pausing a moment as he gazed at the five adventurers before him. "I do not believe I have ever properly thanked you for the good you have done in my life. If not for your intervention, I should have been expelled from the Order long ago, and justly so. No matter what happens from this point onward, I want you to know that I shall not forget what you have done for me. Someday, I shall repay the kindness you have shown to me."

Minsc laughed, slapping Anomen across the back with a force that made the stout young man stumble a bit. "Minsc and Boo have no doubt that you will be a knight again soon! You have kicked the butt of evil at Minsc's side and that is enough for him!"

"I... ah, I thank you, good ranger." Anomen said, coughing slightly as she tried to find the words to reply to Minsc's over-exuberant expression of faith in him. "While I would like nothing more than to stay at your side while I try and prove myself again, I fear that I would find no worth or testing of my own soul with your constant care and watch. I must find my own way... and I wish you only the best as you return to your own path. I'm sure you are eager to return to the elven city."

"We'll miss you, Anomen." Aerie smiled shyly, the squire bowing in respect to the Avariel as she folded her arms before her. "Perhaps someday our paths will cross once again."

Across the Order Hall, a cloaked and hooded monk, supposedly awaiting a meeting with the Prelate of the Order, watched their goodbyes and their well-wishes. His eyes narrowed and he gathered himself to depart, ready to report this new knowledge to his master. He passed them by, barely hearing Greywulf's final parting to Anomen. "Me... I wouldn't doubt it a bit."

X X X X X X

The sound of the axe striking the wood placed on his cutting block made a drum beat as steady as the heartbeat of the aging man who made his home in the woods. The axe went up again, coming down with enough force to split the block beneath. Both pieces tumbled off on either side, and the older man wiped the sweat from his brow as he leaned down and picked up another block of wood. He'd been at this for the past few hours, his daughter coming out and gathering the wood and stacking it inside for the upcoming winter. There were only a few more weeks before they'd need this supply for the winter chill.

"Father! I've begun roasting dinner for us... it will be ready soon." his daughter's voice brought a smile to the aging man's face as he turned and nodded, acknowledging her news.

"Very well, Mary. I shall finish this last cord of wood and then be in to join you." he watched the train of her blue dress disappear inside their cabin once again, and for the millionth time since she had been rescued by the band of adventurers a year ago, he thanked the gods for her presence. She had anchored him, kept him going when they had still been under the thumb of the tyrannical Jierdan Firkraag, and even after the death of the fearsome red dragon, Garren Windspear valued nothing in life more than his daughter.

He looked up, the glare from the setting sun giving him pause as he squinted, trying to make out how much light he would have left before the forest surrounding him would swallow any chance at finishing the work he'd begun outside. If he hurried... yes, perhaps. With another grunt of effort, he hefted his axe and split another block of wood, feeling the burn in his back muscles as he mechanically put another block up for splitting. Just a bit more-

The wood around darkened for the briefest of seconds, followed by a distinct sound of wing-beats that had once inspired terror in him and his daughter. Now, it was a sound to welcome and rejoice in hearing, though he could scarce help bit feel a bit of nervousness, knowing the nature of his visitor. She had proved benevolent thus far, but his long experience with Firkraag had made him less than trusting in dragons and their actions towards humans.

Mary had not been completely oblivious- she ran outside, a look of curiosity crossing her freckled features as she opened her mouth, questioning what she had heard while inside the cabin. "Father! Was that-"

"Hello, Garren. Mary."

The regal tones of Adalon, silver dragon and former protector of the Underdark passage strode from the woods surrounding, the train of her silver robe flowing behind. Her glowing gaze rested firmly upon the pair who made their home within the lands she protected- Garren bowed once in respect, letting the head of his axe rest on the ground beside him. "As always, it is an honor, Lady Adalon. You are well, I presume? Your hatchlings, too?"

The edges of Adalon's lips curled upward as she nodded, crossing her arms in front of herself, long fingers clasping together as she replied, "Quite, thank you. They are growing fast- they will be able to join me in hunts soon enough. And you?"

Windspear paused a moment, considering his next words carefully. If there was anything he had learned in his time suffering under the rule of Jierdan Firkraag, it was that the affairs of dragons were never to be taken lightly. Adalon the wise, Adalon the silver... Adalon the dragon. Benevolent though she may have been, there was no chance she had come from the stewardship of her young to simply inquire into the doings and affairs of two humans. Something had drawn her out... and if there was something going on in the Windspear Hills that was drawing her attention, it was something that he and Mary should be taking a vested interest in as well. "We are well, as always. You'll forgive my bluntness though, my Lady... but something tells me that you did not leave the safety of your lair to indulge us with a simple chat. What has brought you to our doorstep?"

Adalon's eyes tightened, and her human-looking pupils flashed reptilian as white light blazed all around her. Both Garren and Mary Windspear covered their eyes from the intense flash, only looking back when it no longer seemed as though the sun itself had come to earth before them. No longer was there a slim figure of pale yet powerful beauty standing before them- in that place had come Adalon's true form, a silver dragon that towered before them, her jaw snapping twice as she craned her neck to the left and the right. Her voice echoed with power and majesty as she spoke once more, "You are right to suggest that I had an ulterior motive for visiting you. I need your help."

"Our help?" Garren's blood chilled, and if he had been wary before, her words had done nothing but alarm him further. To 'socialize' with a dragon on friendly terms was one thing... to be asked for help by one of these majestic beasts of old was another entirely. He exchanged a look of worry with his daughter, and they both read the same thing in each other's eyes. If there was a problem that Adalon the Silver could not handle, it was big. And unfortunately, probably far bigger than anything he could handle. "Lady Adalon, we are flattered..."

"But we are no adventurers." Mary stepped to her father's side, taking him by the arm. "What could we possibly do to aid you?"

"I... I am not certain." Adalon confessed, and the hesitance in her voice did nothing to calm the spirits of those listening. "For the past weeks I have felt as though there is a dark presence invading these lands... watching. A spirit of darkness that I cannot discern. It has diminished in the past few days, but still... naturally, I fear for my young. I shall not permit them to be threatened once more."

"What would you have us do then?" Mary asked, tightening the grip on her father's arm; she did an admirable job of keeping the fear from her voice, but Garren could feel the slight tremble in her body.

"Nothing dangerous, I assure you." Adalon soothed, spreading her wings wide as she reared back onto her haunches, preparing to take flight. "Just that you keep an eye out for anything... out of place. These woods are not as safe as I imagined them to be. I must return to my young- I have been gone too long as it is."

With that, Adalon soared upwards, quickly vanishing over the treetops and leaving the Windspear family to watch and wonder. On the edges of the hill country, overlooking the wood and watching the form of Adalon shrink into the distance as she returned to the remains of Windspear Castle, two pairs of reptilian eyes watched, unblinking as they spoke quietly to one another.

"He is not here, father."

"No... no, but he was. The monk's spell found only the traces of his essence- we will not find Gorion's ward here. We should return to the enclave."

Draconis turned to his father, gesturing toward Adalon as the older dragon turned to leave. "What of the silver one? We have watched her for so long- we know where her hatchlings reside... we could take them if we wanted. Perhaps use them to persuade her to join our army-"

"You underestimate the fury of a mother bereaved." Abazigal chuckled, his voice booming in the evening as they departed. "It is too great a risk at this stage. We must maintain focus... Gorion's ward must be found. He must be killed."

X X X X X X

So strange. So unusual. Not the fact that it existed, naturally. He had known of it all along, he had seen it on one or two occasions when visiting the surface for his own exploits for glory such as the Blooding. No... it was just still so strange for him to look around, and in all directions... nature. Grass. Trees. Living, breathing examples of what could be grown, what could be brought forth when blessed with light and nourishment. Such feelings of wonderment and awe at what was so commonplace to everyone else on the surface would most certainly pass in time... though if Solaufein had his way, he would rather that he never lost such feelings and ideas.

The drow elf sat in one of the many wide meadows in the grove of Letherel, simply listening to the songs of the dryads as he tried to center himself, looking for the peace that he had come to the grove to find. It had not been an easy choice, leaving the company of the Bhaalspawn. They had been his only tether of safety in the surface; he was certain that no others in the world above would show him the kindness or camaraderie that he had found in their presence. Most surfacers would take pleasure in hunting him, given half the opportunity. It had only taken two or three instances in the city of Athkatla where peasants had spied his true face beneath the hood he wore and either fled in terror or shouted hateful epithets that he had been forced to quell the anger and vengeful nature within him, a remnant of the years spent in the Underdark.

How to find peace in a world that hated him for no reason other than his race- Imoen had suggested the Dryad Queen of Letherel, Dianya, and despite uncertainty at what such a being would think of his request for help, he had followed the girl to this grove a few months after their liberation of Suldenesselar. Dianya had proved as benevolent as Imoen had claimed and was counseling him, helping him to find the inner peace he would need to survive on the surface. Imoen... his thoughts still wandered to the girl every now and then. He had felt the closest to her throughout their time together, the trickster and impish rogue such a dynamic clash with his silent, strong warrior. And yet, he could not help but miss her company, her laugh, her... presence.

Solaufein let that irony wash over him for a moment longer, smirking as he shifted his body further, letting the sunlight in the grove warm his chest, unarmored and shirtless. There was little use for it here... though that did not keep him from keeping a blade at his side. He had given the Silver Sword back to Minsc before they departed, acquiring a simple two-handed blade with a few enchantments in its stead. It never left his side, even in the grove of Letherel. Too many years spent watching for treachery and assassins behind every corner in Ust Natha had robbed him of the ability to fully trust his surroundings. After all, it only took one time-

A scream echoed inside his head... Dianya? Solaufein was on his feet in a split second, the blade out of its sheath and gripped in his powerful hands. He sprinted through the tree-paths, making a bee-line for the palace where Queen Dianya made her residence in Letherel. What had happened? Had she been attacked, killed- no. The grove of Letherel could not be sustained without her power; if she was dead, the grove would be collapsing around him even now. Still, he would not let his guard down quite so easily-

The tendrils of wood that composed a door into her palace were unresponsive as he approached- that in itself spoke to something wrong. They were normally ready to curl away, to admit anyone whom the Queen desired to see. She had never denied him entrance to her chambers thus far; Solaufein hefted his blade, swinging it twice and opening a path inside. He barreled in, looking this way and that, watchful for any adversary or intruder- down the hall to his left, in the meditation pool where Dianya would go to seek her visions of the future, he could see her limp form, sprawled on the floor and unmoving. His eyes widened as he sheathed his sword and ran to her side, sliding to her side and turning her over to look into her eyes. They were barely open, her hands trembling as he tried to calm the Dryad Queen. "Dianya... what has happened? I heard your voice... your scream, in my mind."

"Letherel... it has been f-found. B-breached..." Dianya whispered, a trickle of blood running from one of her nostrils, too dark of a red against her pale green skin. "My children... my sisters..."

The sound of footsteps hurtling through the passages behind them turned Solaufein's attention for a moment as three elven guards appeared, bows drawn and readied with arrows. "My Queen! We saw the drow cut his way inside- what has happened? Has he harmed you?!"

Solaufein was too concerned for Dianya's safety to take offense at the not-so-subtle insinuations of his own involvement in whatever was troubling the Queen; that did not mean he was going to let them sit by and make ridiculous accusations, wasting precious time. "Check the grove." he barked, the strands of his white hair falling over his eyes as he glared at them with a ferocity that had made hardened drow soldiers think twice before questioning him. "Something has happened to the dryads. Now!!"

To their credit, they only hesitated for a few moments before obeying Solaufein's order, the swiftness of the elves taking them from sight within seconds. Solaufein turned back to Dianya, cupping the back of her neck in his hand as he got her to meet his gaze, trying to keep her focused and conscious. "Dianya... what did you see?"

"I... I saw death. The rivers will run red with the blood of the innocent!" Dianya cried out, her voice growing in pitch with each word. "The Bhaalspawn will burn the forests to the ground, grind the mountains in to rubble, the plains into ash! Only two god-spawn stand in the path of the Five! My children- found out, defiled by the Spider Queen!!"

Her words chilled Solaufein to the bone- Lolth? Had that vengeful goddess sent the driders after him already? Had he doomed Letherel to invasion and attack by his mere presence? He would not put this paradise in danger by staying here, that much was certain. If Lolth wanted him, then he'd fight her minions, but it wouldn't involve those who had befriended him here on the surface-

"No..." Dianya took him by the hand, her eyes searching his as though seeing what he was thinking. "Not you. Not seeking you... they were seeking another. The Bhaalspawn-"

The sound of the elves returning got their attention, one of the guards holding out a dagger covered in a black sheen, the hilt engraved with the symbol of Lolth upon it. "We found this in the heart of Elisa's tree, on the outskirts of the grove. There were signs of a struggle; it looks as though she was attempting to stop someone from... from leaving."

"Leaving?" Solaufein growled. "That means they were here without us knowing to begin with... and only tripped up when trying to leave. Elisa spotted them... and they killed her for it."

"The Bhaalspawn." Dianya whispered. "They seek that which once was... the essence of the Bhaalspawn lingers here, in both your form and in their presence. The hunt has begun..."

Solaufein nodded, his thoughts already racing through the best way to find Greywulf and his companions. If there were drow involved, he could not simply wait in the grove of Letherel. It was not in him to wait while his friends- still a concept he found difficult to apply to his own life- fought against assailants, especially those connected with his old life. Finding peace would have to wait.

Outside of the grove of Letherel, a slim drow figure slipped through the shadows of the wood, a snarl of frustration escaping her lips. Sloppy, getting noticed by that dryad. Not that it had been any trouble, dispatching the woodland creature. Still, these forests, this surface world was not her domain. Such a hunt would have been better left to Illasera or the giant. Still, the monk's spell had led here, to Letherel. And she would not have been happy if Gorion's ward had truly been here and then allowed to escape. It was only a matter of time before they found his true location. Only a matter of time, Sendai thought with a predatory smile.

X X X X X X

The sound of heels click-clacking across the stone floor was little more than an annoyance to the robed and hooded man, meditating in the center of his chambers... at least it would have been nothing more, had he not known who would be so bold to interrupt him there to begin with. Still, he kept his eyes closed and continued to let the energies he had devoted to creating this ritual continue to ebb and flow through his body as he searched, divining the essence of his quarry and feeling for the strands where he had left his mark.

"Still nothing? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were wasting our time." the woman purred, leaning over a simple clay pedestal that held a candle- or it had, until she'd knocked it from its place. "Both Abazigal and Sendai found nothing, yes?"

He did not answer, instead beginning a low murmuring chant as he tried to focus his attentions further. The god-spawn had been so many places, touched so many lives... it was hard to distinguish between traces of his essence and the real thing.

"Balthazar, you're ignoring me."

The monk sighed in exasperation, assured that he would have no peace while she remained in his chambers. She held no fear of the fire giant, the drow, or the half-dragon... he supposed there was no reason she would respect him either. Balthazar rose to his feet, slowly opening his eyes and glaring heavily at the intruding woman. "I hear your words quite clearly, Illasera. I simply fail to understand why you must continue to interrupt my meditations. If you want to find this god-spawn as much as the rest of us, then I suggest you leave me to my work."

"You can hardly blame me, though..." she chuckled, her dark eyes matching his intense stare, a feat few people were able to manage. "Stuck here in this dusty enclave, waiting for you to come out with your admittedly unreliable predictions about where our elusive quarry hides."

Balthazar folded his arms, refusing to let himself be lulled into any sort of security or sense of comfort around this dangerous woman. "You knew- all of you, that these initial spells would be inaccurate. Finding one man amongst millions is no simple task."

"And yet, you send two of us on hunts that prove fruitless, while that brute of a giant is allowed to continue his rampage across the Realms... and here I sit, unable to join in any of the fun." Illasera tsked, shaking one finger as she batted her eyelashes beneath the dark Bhaal-tattoos that encircled her eyes.

"If you consider slaughter to be fun, then yes." Balthazar said tonelessly, though his point was taken well enough. It was always this way when he dealt with the rest of the Five... his mission was too close to theirs and he was too powerful to not be drafted into their ranks... but he was never really one of them. They knew it and he knew it; theirs was an alliance of necessity. The last part of the Five.

Illasera pushed herself off the pedestal and closed the gap between her and Balthazar, running a hand down the front of his monk robe with a predatory gleam in her gaze. "Why... yes, I do. You're too soft, Balthazar. I sometimes wonder if you can be trusted... we all wonder. Maybe it would be better for all of us if I took care of those suspicions right now. Which of us is really faster, hmm? We've never settled that question, you know. Your fists, my arrows..."

Balthazar smiled humorlessly, slowly raising one hand to pull her hand away from him, calmly but firmly. "I think we both know the answer to that... are you not called Illasera the Quick? But while I might fall prey to your speed, I imagine that facing an entire enclave of my monks would be more than even your skills could handle-"

Balthazar frowned, feeling the tug of a mental ritual of communication begin to pull at his consciousness. He touched one hand to his bald head, blinking as the thoughts came in like a flood, the monk exerting his full mental prowess to filter out the extraneous thoughts and paths of travel- paths that could pull his consciousness apart if he was unskilled or unprepared. Fortunately for him, he was nothing if not prepared. One of the monks he had sent to Athkatla- he focused his vision further, seeing what his servant had seen-

"There." Balthazar opened his eyes, nodding in satisfaction as he let the connection fade from his mind. Illasera's attention was piqued; she slipped into view, an anticipatory look in her dark features. He nodded, the woman laughing in delight, tightening the scimitar on her belt. "The elven city. Suldenesselar. That's where they're headed. You might head them off if you travel alone, but you should bring others with you."

"You said it yourself, they'll slow me down." her mouth twisted in irritation. "Do you think me too weak?"

"No... but consider this." Balthazar clasped his hands, eyes narrowed. "The Bhaalspawn you hunt travels with four or five others. They defeated the vampire Bodhi and the mage Irenicus. They killed Sarevok Anchev. They are the greatest threat we have ever faced. If you underestimate them, the outcome will be simple. You will die."

She sneered in response. "We'll see."

X X X X X X

_The roaring fire blazed higher and higher, consuming the town and everything within it. Once beautiful homes and lands were scorched earth, brought low by the unyielding fires of war. There had been little resistance- the residents of this town, a village really, were not warriors. They weren't wizards. They were farmers. Peasants. Men and women who lived simple lives, who were taken completely by surprise when the full might of an army descended upon them. _

_One man burst from his burning home, coughing as he tried desperately to rid his lungs of the massive amounts of smoke he had inhaled. He looked up weakly to see an armored soldier striding straight for him, his blade drawn and ready to strike. His eyes widened as he backed up, raising an arm as if it would ward off the inevitable. He managed to get his breath back moments before his attacker would be within the reach of his blade, choking out a desperate plea._

_"No!! Please, I'll do anything, just let me-"_

_His cry for mercy was cut off as the blade spilled his entrails over the ground, the man collapsing in a pile of his own gore. Hundreds of soldiers rushed onward, trampling underfoot the bodies of so many innocents, all for the sole purpose of finding the one man, the one target whom they sought. Large footsteps, leaving scorched and sizzling earth behind, shook the ground below as a shadowed form marched through the crowded clearing. Everything else around went dark, the sound of wood crackling with embers and collapsing supports echoing all around. _

_In the middle of it all, a diminutive man, his only remarkable feature being his bright red eyes as he struggled in terror. He looked up at the figure standing before him, regarding him with a snarl of victory. He tried to cry out, but it was a bare squeak, unable to find his courage in front of the army that had burned his whole town, simply to get to him. He finally managed to choke out a plea, "What is it you want?! I never asked for this… please, I've done nothing to anyone!"_

_The darkened figure snorted with contempt, raising a massive war hammer high above. "Perhaps not. But you are a Bhaalspawn… and for that you must die!!"_

Greywulf shot up from his bed abruptly, his eyes wide with fright and body slick with sweat. It took him several moments of panic before realization hit him. He wasn't in a burning village. Wasn't being threatened by an army that was ready to massacre innocents to get to one man. He was in Suldenesselar, sleeping- or at least he had been- in one of the finest rooms that the palace had to offer. It had been almost a week since they'd arrived back from their last visit to Athkatla. Almost a week since the visions had started again. Almost a week since he'd had anything close to a peaceful night's sleep.

Greywulf ran one hand across his face, his bare chest heaving with the vivid dreams. No. Had to calm down, had to still himself before-

"Mmphh…Greywulf? Are you awake- what time is it?"

The muffled, half-conscious tones of Jaheira made a twinge of guilt pass through him as he turned his head to look down at the beautiful form lying beside him beneath the silken covers. She was barely awake- that would change in moments. Her years of adventuring, of watching for danger around every corner and in each morning's sunrise had made her remarkably good at gathering her wits about her once awake; she'd be at full mental capacity in brief seconds. That didn't make it right. She'd been roused by his nightmares and visions for the past three nights. As much as he craved some sort of comfort or company after such a vivid experience, it wasn't fair to her.

Her bright green eyes found his like a searchlight in the dark; they focused on him and he smiled gently in response, wondering how he had ever been lucky enough to find love in the life they led. Hoping to salvage at least one of their nights, Greywulf shook his head gently, whispering quietly. "It's still very late- the sun hasn't even peaked the horizon yet. You go on back to sleep."

She didn't even consider it for a moment, much as he had known she wouldn't. Still, he would've felt like a heel without even asking. "More nightmares?" she asked quietly, drawing the blanket to cover herself as she sat up, brushing one hand through her mussed hair to the side.

"The same as the last few nights." he responded quietly as he turned away from facing her, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. "The same slaughter, the same murders…"

She leaned over to him in sympathy, holding him close. "It is not real… try to forget them. Try to get some rest."

"You know just as well as I that it's not so easy." he sighed, kissing her shoulder as he held her tight. "It's like being here, in this place- it's like my taint won't give me any peace. Like the dreams won't stop unless I'm out there fighting, killing-"

He caught himself, refusing to let himself fall into the well of self-doubt and uncertainty that was so quick to overshadow him lately. "I'm sorry, Jaheira... I shouldn't be troubling either of us with this. This is supposed to be a time of rest for us- a bit of time off from any sort of fighting, helping the city rebuild-"

"As you said... this is not going to let us be." Jaheira sighed in acceptance quietly. "We hear the reports of armies moving across the Sword Coast every time we leave this city. The elves have taken note as well- their demeanor towards you has shifted, and not for the better. It appears our defeat of their Exile was not so great a blessing as they would have had you believe."

"Queen Ellesime is trying do the best thing for her people... with everything they've endured over the past few months, I suppose it's not a surprise." Greywulf said, trying to keep the bitter edge from his voice. "Not that treating us like pariahs will make their lives easier. But I suppose you're right... as always." he glanced to her, exhaling his frustrations with the faintest hint of a smile. "I'll speak with her in the morning, try and see if she can't help me make sense of these visions."

"Very well." Jaheira whispered quietly, falling back to the bed with a hint of longing in her eyes, pulling him with her. "But... that is for the morning. As you say, there are still hours left before the sun rises- I'm sure we can find something to occupy our attention until then."

"I was thinking about getting back to sleep-" Greywulf began, only to get hit in the face with a pillow. "Ok, no sleeping. Hmm… what else is there?"


	3. Part 1: A New Journey

The creaking of the massive double doors that composed the gates into the court of the Palace of Suldenesselar was a sure sign of someone who had been fortunate enough to receive an audience with the Queen herself- or someone who was bold enough to approach her without permission. Queen Ellesime, ruler of the elven city and daughter of the Seldarine, had experience with both in the past few months. Still, the one who approached stopped far beyond her presence, bowing in submission and speaking loudly enough that he might be heard across the court, unwilling to approach his ruler without her permission or invitation.

"My Queen... Greywulf is here-"

"To speak with me. I know... send him in." she said, remaining seated at her throne, the elven guard turning on his heel to stride back to the Bhaalspawn, to let the half-elf pass into the presence of similarly divine blood. She closed her eyes as the faint murmurings of her guard and that of her guest echoed outside the palace court, followed by the sound of his footsteps cracking across the stone floor as he walked a straight and narrow path toward her throne. The glass windows embedded in the ceiling of the palace let the sunlight grace her throne at the peak of the day- it was close enough to let the light blaze upon her and it made for a most illustrious sight, even if the glare from above made seeing anything outside of the pillar of light a somewhat difficult task.

As it was, Ellesime did not bother to squint; she knew the figure that approached her throne. Though there was no reason to fear, Ellesime could not help but feel a hint of fearful symmetry in what she witnessed now with what she had seen just months ago. Jon Irenicus, approaching her in the midst of the siege of Suldenesselar, striding through the court with his head high, unafraid of her or what he was about to do. The Exile had been powerful... so powerful with the stolen Bhaal taint flowing through his veins that even she could not stop him from taking control of the city. And now, coming to rest before her, only a handful of feet away, stood Greywulf, once more in possession of the taint and a sorcerer with powers that came close- perhaps not equaling, but remarkably close- to that of Irenicus'.

Did she fear him? No... not in the way she had feared Irenicus. But like any being of immense power, he commanded respect. As did she. He bowed slightly, then straightened his back to face her. "Queen Ellesime... you're looking well. I'm glad you agreed to see me."

"After everything you have done for my people- and myself even more so- how could I not?" she smiled graciously, standing from her throne and descending the few marble stairs between them so that she faced him at nearly eye level- he was just taller than her, though that in no way diminished her own commanding presence. By her posture and her tone of voice, however friendly, she made it clear what her position was, and that he had no right to 'demand' anything from her, only request.

Greywulf paused a moment before speaking again. It was true, she was honor-bound to help him in whatever he asked, within reason at least, but the attitude of the elves had... shifted, since their initial defeat of Irenicus. His status as Bhaalspawn had gotten out rather quickly, and the constant battles that were erupting outside the wood had reached the ears of the citizens here. There was no denying that almost every elf in the city walked on eggshells around him and Imoen. It was better with the others, but not by much. The only elves who remained carefully pleasant in their dealings with him were Ellesime herself, and perhaps Priestess Demin. Elhan had never been completely supportive of their presence, nor had he condemned them. Indifference was better than hostility, Greywulf supposed with a sigh as he finally committed himself to what he was about to ask- a request that would most certainly throw more fuel onto the fire of hostility.

"I came here today because I need your help." he began, his hands folded under his robes. "I've had visions... dreams lately. Over the past weeks they've plagued me at night and I can't forget them in the morning. I haven't slept through the night in at least three days."

Ellesime's porcelain features knit in a frown as she considered his words. "Visions... of the future? Or are they more centered around the events of the present? If they concern that which has yet to occur, Dianya of Letherel might have answers you seek-"

"No... it's of the present. At least, I think it's of the present." Greywulf admitted, unable to hide his uncertainty as he brushed a lock of his sandy hair from his face. "Villages burning... men and women dying, trampled underfoot. All so that someone... someone whose eyes I see through, can find one person and kill them."

"And... do you know who this person is? The one being hunted, or the hunter?" Ellesime prodded, but Greywulf could only shake his head.

"I don't know who the hunters are, and I don't recognize the faces of the one who's being attacked- all I know is that they're like me and Im. Whoever is leading these armies is after Bhaalspawn."

Ellesime flinched with that admission, and while she covered it well, Greywulf saw the calculating, the weighing of options that immediately ran through her mind. If someone was hunting Bhaalspawn, holding two of them in her city, just recovering from a nearly debilitating attack by the mage Irenicus... Suldenesselar was not equipped or ready to fend off another full scale assault. Simply put, the Bhaalspawn and his companions could not be allowed to remain in Suldenesselar much longer. Her gaze fell upon Greywulf, and his stomach sank as he knew there would be little chance of him convincing her otherwise now. She had to do what was best for her people, regardless of the consequences for him and his friends. He understood, but that didn't stop the knot of anger from rising up in his stomach again.

"Exactly what is it you wish me to do for you?" Ellesime asked him, turning to present a side-profile to Greywulf as she gazed skyward. "If it is simply a good night's rest you wish, I can enter your mind and try to erect barriers to block out these thoughts... but working within a mind is no small matter. So many things could go wrong-"

"No, that's all right." he raised a hand in deferment. "I simply hoped you might be able to provide some kind of insight... that maybe you could make some sense of what I've been seeing. Why I've had these visions-"

Ellesime sighed, her head dropping to her chest as she went through her options. Greywulf wasn't a stupid man. He knew she would be evicting him from their city before long. This new information, that Bhaalspawn were being actively hunted by armies led by some unknown figure- she couldn't let him stay. And yet, to send him on his way without a shred of information or aid would be unworthy of what he had done for them. She glanced back at him, "I assume this has some connection to your taint... perhaps the visions you see are a link to another of the god-children? I must see these visions for myself to make any kind of prediction."

She approached him, raising her hands towards his head, Greywulf taking a slight step backwards reflexively. "I thought we just talked about the idea of scrambling my head. Don't get me wrong... I trust you, but-"

"I will only be passing through... an observer of sorts. I shall interfere with nothing." Ellesime tried to reassure him. "Your mind contains the key... though if I am to find what I seek I might have to dig even further. Relax... give me access to your innermost being and I shall do what I can to help you..."

Greywulf exhaled, steeling himself for whatever might come about of this melding of their spirits. "All right, but I'm warning you up front, my mind's not always the nicest place in the world. Believe me, I know..."

X X X X X X

The sound of grunts and wood cracking against wood reached her sensitive ears long before she came within sight of the event that was causing such a loud ruckus. Then again, 'quiet' wasn't exactly one of his strong points. Jaheira quickened her pace, slightly curious as to what poor saps Minsc had drummed into sparring with him again today- she let a smile curl the edges of her mouth upward as she spotted three elves in splint mail circling the giant form of Minsc, clad in leather armor and wielding a quarterstaff. His opponents held staves as well, though Minsc's weapon looked particularly small in his enormous grip.

One of the elves bolted toward him from the side bringing the staff in a low sweep meant to take out the back of his legs while another came toward his front with a blow straight toward his head. Jaheira watched with, admittedly, a sense of curiosity and desire to learn, knowing that while she might have been the better of the two in terms of finesse, Minsc's strength was never to be underestimated and his tactics reflected the berserker that lay not-so-hidden beneath his jolly nature. Were it her in Minsc's situation, she might have a difficult time with the fight; the elves were faster than she, and with a numerical advantage of three to one, her best option would be to break their circle around her, then get her back to something solid so she could face all of them at once.

Minsc did nothing of the sort- rather than try and dodge both attacks coming his way and end up taking both squarely, he moved ahead and narrowly dodged the attack aimed at his legs, one that would've knocked him to the ground and made him easy prey for the elven force he faced, as well as making him lose the match. Throwing his shoulder up, it took the hit instead of his head, landing squarely and sending a solid crack reverberating through the air that made Jaheira wince despite herself. Still, the opportunity was there and Minsc did not let it go to waste. He used the part of the staff between his hands to drive into the elf that had struck him, sending him to the ground as he barreled over him. Strength over speed... the essence of Minsc's nature in battle.

The third elf was quick to follow the ranger's attack from behind, his staff hitting the ranger's side before the big man could even think about blocking. The two elves still on their feet began a massive flurry of attacks, their blows dancing and in and out of Minsc's range, trying to keep the big man from using his superior strength against them, and for a few moments, it looked as though they would succeed in bringing him down. Then, with a flash of movement, Minsc managed to grab hold of one of the staffs swinging towards him. It took a moment for the elf holding it to realize what had just happened, before he found himself being flung into the other elf by his own staff. The two tumbled away, leaving Minsc the only one on his feet and the victor of the match.

He grinned, trying not to hold his sides in pain as he helped the elves back up, exchanging words of congratulation and the like as Jaheira strode to them, arching one eyebrow as the elves nodded with respect as they left, leaving Minsc alone in their arena of sorts. Minsc turned to Jaheira, about to speak until he grimaced with the pain of the blows he'd taken in their match. "Ehh... Boo says it is good to see you, though Minsc would very much like to sit down if we are to speak. We are a bit dizzy at the moment..."

Jaheira shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips as she gestured for him to remove his leathers so she could examine his injuries. "Knowing you, the dizziness is the least of your problems after the beating you just took. Why did you not defend yourself? You could surely have blocked many of the attacks headed your way..."

Minsc shrugged, a gesture that made the big man wince, as he removed his shirt, exposing the welts and bruises that were scattered all across his sides and torso. A particularly nasty one was forming on his side, and from the way he was holding himself, Jaheira expected nothing less than a cracked rib. Maybe two. "Minsc waited until they were close enough to strike. He won, is that not enough?"

"Not if I am the one to continually patch you up." Jaheira gathered her druidic magics within, placing her tanned hands over the worst of the injuries and murmuring chants and incantations as the healing power she commanded swept into his body. Minsc exhaled in visible relief as his body knit itself back together, leaving only the barest of traces that he had been injured in the first place. "Perhaps when I am done fixing your mistakes, we should spar. It has been some time since we tested out skills against one another..."

Minsc nodded with a grin and no lack of enthusiasm, pulling away from her as soon as she was finished and taking up his staff again, slipping his leathers on once more. It was all the protection he needed; his opponents usually chose to wear something heavier, to compensate for the great strength behind his blows, allowing him to avoid holding back as much as he might have to otherwise. Jaheira watched with more than a hint of self-assuredness, slipping her own chainmail off and going with simple leathers as well. Minsc opened his mouth to ask if she was sure, but a glare from the druid made his question a moot point.

Without any signal, the two came together in a dance of battle, both accomplished warriors, both so very well acquainted with each other and the way that they fought. A swing wide was followed by a downward strike meant to cleave a gnoll or hobgoblin in two with his massive sword. Even though they were using staffs, the blows came like clockwork, and Jaheira had no trouble anticipating them, parrying one and dodging the other. On the opposite side of the coin, Minsc had little problem blocking Jaheira's attempts at counter-attacking him- her actions and movements were like water, fluid, serpentine. They flowed into one another, her body and spirit linked as she fell into what Minsc could only think of as a berserker rage... without the rage. Like she became one with her weapon, almost. It was a state Minsc admired and thought made her into a fine warrior... which was why, of course, he did his best to stay on the offensive and keep her from finding the time and balance to enter that state.

She came off a block from the ranger, sliding back on the soles of her feet as she fought to maintain her balance. So far it had been a stalemate- she could feel her muscles responding to the adrenaline, her body tightening in the thrill of the duel. She resisted the urge to wipe sweat from her brow, instead choosing to take a lunge forward, stringing the inevitable parry into a low kick where she could try and sweep the ranger's feet out. It hadn't worked for the elves before, but it was true enough that if one was to bring Minsc down, the best way to approach it would be from the legs.

Minsc parried the staff lunge, as expected- Jaheira's eyes widened as she felt a grip of iron snatch her wrist as she began diving for her kick. He'd pushed forward instead of retreating slightly from her lunge, and then taken her by the wrist before she could react. A stupid mistake. Minsc pulled her off balance and prepared to bring a knee around to knock her to the ground- he spotted something that made him pause, hesitate. That moment of hesitation was enough for Jaheira, and with a swinging upwards kick, the tip of her boot impacted with Minsc's chin and sent the ranger stumbling back, releasing the grip he held on her wrist. She fell to a crouch, then rose up with a flurry of swings, each one carried into another. She'd found her balance and with a strong blow to the side, Minsc tumbled to the ground.

The woman exhaled with relief, taking satisfaction in the hard-won victory. They rarely sparred, but when they did, neither of them gave any quarter and it was never an easy match. Quite frankly, she'd thought herself finished when he'd gotten a hold of her. She strode to Minsc, the ranger rubbing his jaw and still blinking away the last few head shots. Extending a hand, she nodded to him as he stood to his feet. "Well fought, Minsc... but you hesitated. Why?"

The ranger did not answer right away, and that in itself made Jaheira's warning senses tingle. Minsc was nothing if not direct, and the slightly ashamed look upon his face did nothing to assuage her curiosity. "Minsc, what is it?"

"Minsc does not wish to intrude if this is none of his business, but... but Minsc noticed that you no longer wear your ring." the ranger stopped, looking fairly miserable that he had even brought up the subject, as though knowing it would be a touchy issue for the druid but unwilling to lie when directly questioned. He was right in one respect- it was a touchy issue, and not one she particularly felt like discussing with the ranger, though she had no one to blame but herself. She'd brought it up, after all. Jaheira glanced down at her bare hand... bare for the first time in years. "I... it has been some time since Khalid passed on. And you know that Greywulf... rather, you know that he is special to me."

Minsc nodded slowly, his shame at bringing the subject up slowly making way for curiosity. "But... eh, Boo says that you did not remove your ring when you and Greywulf first began seeing one another as more than just friends. Why now?"

She grit her teeth, feeling defensive despite herself. No- she'd been trying to work on holding her tongue when frustrated with her companions, especially after the damage she'd done after escaping from Irenicus' dungeon. Things she'd said... no, she was more deliberate with her words now. Not that she'd blunt her tongue completely. "Minsc, suffice it to say that while many bonds surpass death... some do not. And unless I indicate otherwise, I have little else to say of the matter. Shall we go again?"

Her quick diversion away from the topic was received well enough, and Minsc obliged her by effortlessly slipping into a conversation topic completely unrelated to Khalid or her relationship with Greywulf. Whatever that was, at the moment. She wasn't wearing her old wedding band for more than one reason- Greywulf had proposed to her back in the realm of Hell they'd fought Irenicus in, and she'd said yes... but they'd scarcely talked of it since then. Rather, she'd avoided the topic every time he'd tried to bring it up afterwards. And quite frankly, she was willing to avoid the topic in her own mind once more. What better way to take one's mind of something than sparring with a seven foot tall berserker?

X X X X X X

The world felt as though it was spinning, and opening her eyes did little more than show an empty sea of blackness that surrounded her in the void while her consciousness slowly slipped into that of the man before her. In reality, her hands were outstretched and grasping Greywulf's head as she delved into his mind using her magics, but in this world... there. Her body slowly began to take form, and Ellesime smiled as she looked down to see her own body shimmer into existence, the world before her swirling into a deluge of shapes that made sense in some parts and were nothing but mindless gibberish in others. The mind was a difficult place to understand- the forms and the shapes with which it represented itself were never the same between people, and simply keeping oneself from getting lost in the tangle of thoughts and passages was a chore in itself.

Queen Ellesime closed her eyes, stretching out with her feelings, trying to find the presence she sought... there. The taint was the origin of these dreams, these visions; that much she was sure of. A castle with doors opening out of the sides of the walls and spires that were bent and jagged at odd angles was the location where she felt the strongest evidence of the taint. She would begin her search there. Moving through the mind was not like moving through the real world- at the speed of thought, she found herself striding over the open drawbridge of the gates, even if there was no moat below, or even any ground for the whole structure to rest upon.

Ellesime glanced from side to side, watching for any sign of what she sought as she moved through the torch-lit castle halls, following a path of red carpeting that seemed to stretch forever before her, only pausing at seemingly random times to shift direction down side passages that led to more stone halls, each one identical to the last. Greywulf's mental defenses... every wizard had them, including herself. They were taking shape in this way, as a castle's labyrinth; she closed her eyes, focusing her power gently, subtly. It wouldn't do to try and break the walls down- not only would it be detrimental to Greywulf's mind, it would be far more difficult a task than simply finding a way past them.

She could feel her physical self whispering to Greywulf, trying to relax him, trying to help him lower his defenses so that she could proceed further... there. A section of the walls melted away, providing a straight path for her to follow- she felt no hesitation in taking this route, knowing that whatever else happened, Greywulf would be doing his best to aid her. There was little danger so long as he continued to remain in control-

"Who enters my domain?!"

The voice rumbled through the air, and everything around melted away, resolving itself into the shape of a throne room, much like her own in the palace of Suldenesselar. She did not see a speaker- no, there it was. A figure rose from the darkness, hooded and robed before the throne. Ellesime paused, wondering if she should prepare to fight... wait. That voice. It was like the sound of someone trying to deepen their tone, like they were doing a bad impression of a dwarf. The stifled giggles from beneath the robe didn't help either... Ellesime frowned, venturing a guess. "Imoen?"

The figure flashed once, and sitting upon the throne with her legs crossed in front of her was the girl herself, grinning from ear to ear. "Right as rain! Well, sort of. I'm not really Imoen, but it'll make things easier if you just think of me as her. Sound good?"

Ellesime walked to the form standing before her, reaching out with a hand... Imoen snorted a laugh, then took Ellesime's hand, squeezing once as though to assure the elven Queen she was real. "You are part of Greywulf's mind? No... not his mind. His... his soul-?"

Imoen laughed, clapping lightly, obviously impressed. "Yep! Why I'm the form ol' Grey's soul takes, you'll have to ask him that. But yer doing well. I guess yer here to find out about these nasty little dreams he's been having, hmm? I can't much help you with that... ye'll have to talk to our other 'guest.' Come one... I'll show you."

The two women left the throne behind, coming to a doorway with wooden slats and metal braces. It was embedded in a stone wall, and there was an immediate sense of foreboding that nearly overcame her as she drew close. Imoen glanced at Ellesime, noting the immediate twinge of discomfort and almost pain that crossed the elven queen's face. "You feel it too, hmm? Not surprised. It's been a lot stronger ever since I got yanked out of here by Irenicus a while back. I used to keep it under lock'n'key the whole time... s'been a while since it's been that weak. Not that I can't handle keeping it under control, but there are times... well, let's just take a peek, shall we?"

Imoen snapped her fingers and in the blink of an eye, the door disappeared as well as the rest of the room. The world around reshaped and shifted once again, the only constant being that of Imoen, still standing beside her with a look of cautious preparation. They reappeared in a cold dungeon, dank and filled with shadow. The entire room seemed alive with darkness, and if not for the light that seemed to glow around Imoen, it would have been nearly impossible to see anything. Despite herself, Ellesime felt a cold sweat upon the back of her neck. Elven queen or not, this was not the realm she was accustomed to. She took a measure of her surroundings again, this time noting a mangle of twisted iron bars in the corner.

Imoen smiled weakly, seeing where Ellesime was looking. "I told ya... that's where I used to keep him locked away. As you can see... there's no way I'll be able to push him back into that. For now, I do well enough to keep him prowling around down here- I keep him from the surface, he keeps out of my way. Not the best of arrangements, but meh, what are you going to do with a divine taint?"

A booming footstep rumbled behind them, and Ellesime spun in place- and so close it could have licked her, was the massive maw of the Slayer. Ebony eyes stared unblinking into hers, and the long rows of needle like teeth spread wide as it rumbled, _**"Hnh. The elven queen, here in my domain. I should kill you."**_

Ellesime unconsciously felt for the power inside her, unsure if it would be enough here, in this realm of the mind and spirit. Fortunately, she had help. "Whoa there, tall dark and gruesome." Imoen warned, stepping between the two as she pushed Ellesime behind her. "She's not here to be yer snack and you know it. There's something she needs your help with. You best cooperate or-"

_**"Or you'll what?" **_the Slayer growled, throwing its four arms out to the side and roaring a mocking challenge as it hunched over, the spines running down its back and arms flexing with each breath it took. _**"You cannot cast me out, that much you have already admitted. You may hold me back, but it is no longer your decision to chain me. If Greywulf desires my aid, he has but to ask, and we shall be one."**_

Imoen might've continued the argument, but Ellesime was unused to being ignored, even in circumstances such as these. She raised a hand quietly, cutting Imoen's retort off, then boldly stepped up to face the monster once more. "As she said... I need your aid. You ask why you should do anything to help me... perhaps it is worth noting that Greywulf will not leave the safety of Suldenesselar until he knows what path he should take. I am helping him decide this... and until I can know what he has seen in his dreams, I can do nothing. He will remain in Suldenesselar, and you will have no opportunity to take the control you seek. By helping me, you help yourself."

A glimmer of interest passed through the black pits that passed for eyes in the scaled features of the demon before them; it flexed one of its arms, straightening up to its impressive nine feet of height, then bent over so it could look Ellesime squarely in the eyes. _**"Your strength is great, but in this place... you overestimate your own powers. Still, if you are eager to test your will so fully, I will show you what you wish to see."**_

__A hole in the dungeon opened, a passageway leading even further downward into blackness, into the deepest recesses of Greywulf's mind and spirit. Imoen chewed on her lip in concern, glancing to Ellesime with nervousness. "I dunno about this... if you choose to go down there, I can't follow you in. That's his realm, not mine... and I doubt it's a nice place to be."

Ellesime regarded Imoen for a moment, then smiled weakly, striding towards the void with the Slayer following behind, veritably glowing with dark amusement. "So I've been told."

X X X X X X

Greywulf felt it first. The tremble in Ellesime's hands as she gently grasped the side of his face, the faint twitches of pain and effort that her face betrayed. She was reaching the innermost parts of his consciousness, the places he hid from everyone, including himself. There was little he could do within himself to help her now.

Another tremble, this time bringing a sharp blast of pain through his mind, nearly forcing him to pull away from her touch. What was she seeing-?

Ellesime's eyes flew open as another jolt of energy ignited between them; she withdrew as though she'd been shocked, holding her head with one hand as she blinked rapidly, trying to regain her vision, her focus. He did not approach her, giving the elven queen space, but still asked, "Are you all right? I felt your efforts..."

"I am... unharmed, if that is what you mean." Ellesime breathed, slowly regaining a sense of her former composure. She tried to hide the rapid pounding of her heart, tried to sort out the blur of images she'd tried to absorb as for a brief, terrible instant... she'd felt it. The full taint of Bhaal. The wave of dark energy that ran through not only Greywulf, but Imoen. That ran through every Bhaalspawn on Faerun. It was a feeling like nothing else... like a dark mirror of the oneness she took part of with the Seldarine.

Sensing Greywulf's anxious gaze still upon her, she tried to shake off the lingering fear and dread, searching for a way to aid the expectant man before her. "I saw... I saw others. Other gods among men, destroying one another to claim the Throne of Bhaal. These are the events you witness each night. It is not just the hunting of Bhaalspawn... it is the killing of them by their own kin. The claiming of the Throne is at hand, and you will either hunt, or be hunted."

"But who? Where are they, how can I-" Greywulf stopped himself, noting the pained expression she still wore, the way in which she held herself. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. People are dying, and it seems like all I can do is sit here in this city and let it happen. I can't do it. I've got to do something."

"Yes... yes, you do." the elven monarch nodded quietly. "The taint within you spoke nothing of where your murderous kin hide... but the conflict you face will be inevitable. It is in your destiny... and I may have one last method of aiding you in that respect. There is an ancient grove outside the city, where the old elves would go to seek out the wisdom of the gods to find their destiny. The magics there are strong... only the royalty of Suldenesselar has ever been allowed within the wards that protect its borders. In these dire moments, I will grant you access to the grove, though I fear that afterwards, I have little else to lend to your cause."

Greywulf listened with a bitter nod; he sighed, shrugging with forced nonchalance. "So you're saying that once we leave, the gates won't exactly be swinging wide for us to come back."

"No. No, they shall not." Ellesime replied, a sad smile crossing her pale lips. "Go. Seek your destiny. Your time here has ended... and no matter what happens, know that I and this city are indebted to you for all time. You will find your way, that much I trust. As for Suldenesselar... it must be allowed to find its way once more as well. A way of peace, for a time. I'm sorry. We can no longer help you. I will send Elhan and a gathering of my soldiers to lead you to the grove-"

"Don't bother." Greywulf said stonily as he turned his back on her, stalking out of the palace hall. "We'll go alone. It's how we did it against Sarevok, it's how we did it against your Exile, and it's how we'll do it this time. Just point the way and we'll be out of your city by tomorrow."

His cold tones were not undeserved- she did not protest or reply with indignation, though she did not expect him to turn around for one last moment, adding what seemed like an afterthought, almost. "And incidentally... thank you."


	4. Part 1: Angels and Devils

"Is it done?"

Even as the words left her mouth, Queen Ellesime knew what the answer would be. Faithful Elhan, standing at her side and loyal to a fault, for over a hundred years. No matter what his thoughts about her decisions, he would obey- and he allowed himself one moment of questioning, one statement of reassurance that the Queen had truly wished to let the Bhaalspawn and his companions reach the ancient grove before agreeing to show them the way. Still, she waited for the golden-helmed elf to finish his approach, remove his helm and bow before replying.

"As you commanded, my Queen. I brought them to the outer edges of the wards, then led my company back to the city. They should be able to find their way back and be on their way before night falls. 'Tis a heavy rain though- it will not be a pleasant journey." that last bit was more of an afterthought than anything else, but Ellesime nodded, inferring more than was probably meant. Ever since she had melded with Greywulf's mind for a time, looked upon the full extent of the taint that lurked within him, her thoughts had been occupied with how best to prepare, how best to lead her city in preparation for the time that was rapidly upon them.

The invasion by a Bhaal-fueled Irenicus had shown her just how vulnerable Suldenesselar could be to those with the power and the will to strike. If another Bhaalspawn, not even Greywulf or Imoen, took it upon themselves to strike her city in their taint-filled madness, could she protect them? Suldenesselar's greatest defense was always the way in which it remained hidden from those without the power or knowledge of the ancients- or with the help of an artifact such as the Rhynn Lanthorn, now safely guarded within the vaults of the Palace of Suldenesselar itself, at least until the Temple at the Underdark entrance could be rebuilt. If its location were made known, how long a siege could they withstand? For all the vaunted strength of the elves, they were spread dangerously thin for the moment. The Wood Elves of Tethyr were recovering from the aid they'd sent to Suldenesselar, and would be loathe to fight another battle so soon. The druids of Trademeet were still leaderless, and would be slow to respond to any cry for help. Suldenesselar itself had been nearly decimated in the invasion, and Elhan had only a few hundred trained elves under his command. Letherel, perhaps, was their last bastion of strength, its defenses largely still intact and unharmed. The elves that guarded it were among the forces that pushed back the drow in the city itself, and had never taken the heavy losses that front-line fighting had inflicted upon the others.

No, Suldenesselar was not as well protected as it should have been. It would take time for them to restore their strength. Time that was in short supply. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her magics flow from within and seek out the presences of those who had departed her city. It was difficult to find the individuals, but the taints stood out like a flame in the dark. After touching it once, it was unmistakable. There... the untamed beast that lurked inside of the sorcerer, visible like a raw, open wound. Beside him, the sheer, untested power that Imoen kept within. It had yet to be released, but it was right there, fainter, quieter.

A flash of darkness in the light of the spirit world made Ellesime frown, jolted from her concentration. She regained it within moments, searching for the glimmer of obsidian, the darkness she'd just felt, just seen... but it was nowhere to be found. What had she seen, exactly? A reflection of the taint within Greywulf and Imoen? A simple resonance from their presence? Ellesime opened her eyes, her brow furrowing in confusion as she tried to decipher the meaning of what she'd just witnessed.

"If you will permit me, I should say that you look uncertain. Is something wrong?" Elhan ventured, breaking the Queen's train of thought. It was unlike the daughter of the Seldarine to look so... pensive. She was always so decisive, so certain of herself. To a fault, some might say. She looked up from the spot on the marble floors she'd been staring at for the past few minutes, a slight smile crossing her face as she shook her head.

"No... just a passing thought. Elhan, you have done well, as always. I would ask you to prepare a small band of your archers and shadow the Bhaalspawn until they have left the wood. If at all possible, do not let them know that you are watching." she added at the end, before smiling wryly at the quirk of curiosity at Elhan's features, a question in his eyes that he would dare not vocalize himself. "This is not, despite what you may think, to ensure that they leave our lands. I simply... I have a feeling of unease. Perhaps it is nothing- but I would have you watch nonetheless."

"As you would have it." Elhan nodded, donning his helm once more.

X X X X X X

An unusually harsh rain was pouring through the cover that the forest limbs and foliage provided, drenching the five travelers long before they had reached the outskirts of the grove. All of them had their wool cloaks and hoods wrapped around them, trying to find some measure of protection from the rain, but there was none to be found. The miserable conditions were enough to make Greywulf wonder if he was wasting their time here; whether they really could wait this mess out at Suldenesselar, avoid the prophecies altogether from there. Just tossing around the idea in his head for more than a half-second was enough for him to know that it was impossible; aside from their unofficial exile by the elves of the city, there was simply no way that he could pass on this kind of responsibility. He'd seen what had happened to those with the blood of Bhaal that simply rested, simply tried to live normal lives and let the decisions of fate fall as they may. He'd seen the terror in their eyes as they were trampled underfoot, slaughtered without pity or remorse. He saw it every night that he tried to do the same in Suldenesselar.

The darkest days the Realms had ever seen were coming soon; like it or not, he and Imoen would play some part. What part that was, he didn't know yet- but if the prophecies were to be believed, the rivers of Faerun would run red with blood. By his hand? By Imoen's? They'd all seen what the Slayer could do. Some of them had seen what could come about if Imoen were to succumb to her taint. If the Realms were to survive, there had to be a balance. There had to be those devoted to protecting, rather than murdering. It was just the luck of the draw that the gods had once again dropped that responsibility squarely on their shoulders.

Fair? No, not really. but life wasn't fair. He'd learned that when he'd watched Gorion murdered before his eyes, when he'd found out who his true father was... when he'd seen the gut-wrenching sorrow of two of his closest friends, one a failure in his mission, the other a widow far too soon. Was he to blame for their troubles, maybe just a little? Perhaps... his path was never a 'safe' one, and the dangers he faced were the dangers they faced. That wasn't even taking into account the Slayer- the demonic force within him was unparalleled in power and strength, but with each transformation he lost a little more of himself to the evil, never knowing if he could come back from the change. It had happened a total of four times… the taint that had used to be a whisper had become a shout in his ear. Still, since he had regained his soul and killed Irenicus, the lure of the taint was smaller again, more easily pushed back. He knew how to induce the Slayer to come forth, and he imagined that if he ever really tried, he could become the demon once more... but he'd made a promise to the woman who walked a few feet beside him- a promise he didn't intend to forget.

A thought pierced him; one that had been growing on his mind for some time now. He glanced behind him, watching Imoen shiver in the rain as she trudged behind him, between Minsc and Jaheira. She was Bhaalspawn, his sister in both blood and spirit. Her portion of taint _seemed_ miniscule compared to that of Sarevok, or even him. But... Irenicus had awakened it within her, pulled it to the surface of her consciousness. How long before she began to feel the same strength of taint that he did, the same pull of murder?

The overgrown forest before him abruptly opened, a crack of lightning splitting the obscured sky above them even as they broke into the clear. There were still numerous trees and hedges scattered through the clearing, but it was a relief to be free of the constricting forest they had left. It had been extremely difficult to follow the path to find this place; without Ellesime's directions, and Elhan's initial guidance, despite his insistence that it wouldn't be necessary, finding the grove might have proved impossible. Above, the rains still poured their fury down upon them- Greywulf raised his head as much as he dared with the cloak stopping too much rain from blinding his vision. He blinked a few times, trying to get the few water droplets from his eyes. Trees and shrubs dotted the place, as well as large boulders and pieces of rubble, old pillars and broken-down statues. Of real interest were the dozens of stone heads scattered about, large and radiating a power that could not have been missed. They were the size of small cottages, and despite their obvious age, no moss or vines grew upon these stones of power.

"Greywulf..." Aerie's voice broke through the increasing downpour of the rain around them, "Be careful. The ancient magic of this place... it senses our presence. I can feel it... no. Not our presence. Your presence. Yours and Imoen's."

"I can feel it too." Imoen said with a shiver, a slight nervousness to her features as she bit her lower lip, taking small but determined steps toward a cluster of them. "It's like... it's like they're trying to make contact with us. I don't know if I can-"

They eyes on all the heads flared a bright orange, and two screams echoed through the clearings. Greywulf and Imoen found themselves on their knees and clutching their heads, the taint within them ringing and resounding as words like rocks grinding together rumbled through their heads, shattering any resistance or attempts to push the presence from within them.

_**The wheels of prophecy e'er turn,**_

_**Gorion's ward hath come. **_

_**Crossroad of past, present and future,**_

_**The one foreseen, the one foretold.**_

_**That which hath past is ne'er truly gone,**_

_**History repeats, though mortals choose not to see.**_

_**War and bloodshed be not new to the Realms,**_

_**A God that once hath been may be once again.**_

_**Armies march and cities burn,**_

_**The rivers froth with tainted blood.**_

_**The corpses of those born not innocent**_

_**Feed the inferno of boiling hate.**_

_**Bhaal's Servant deceived, Five led down a false path,**_

_**A hidden traitor lurks in thy midst.**_

_**The Servant of Bhaal knows death and destruction,**_

_**The face of an ally, the mask of a foe.**_

_**The Children of Bhaal bring death to the land,**_

_**They slaughter each other, and feed their Father.**_

_**Death and betrayal walk together,**_

_**A river of tainted blood doth not cleanse.**_

_**The storm approaches, we speak no more. **_

The thudding pain began to fade slowly, the dull sound of the sheets of rain falling reentering the hearing of the two Bhaalspawn once more. Greywulf tried to pry his eyes open only to spy his own hands, planted firmly on the ground, mud and pools of water and grass between them. The sound of someone yelling at him was just a faint echo in the back of his mind, as was the feeling that someone was pulling at him, trying to get him to his feet. He looked up dumbly, watching Minsc and Aerie tugging at Imoen, trying to get the thief-mage to rise. Jaheira was kneeling beside him, unhidden worry clear as day on her face. She said something he couldn't make out- once again, all he could do was nod and try to get his limbs to start working again, nearly slipping twice but finally regaining his footing and some measure of his senses.

"Greywulf… are you all right?! By Silvanus man, answer if you can hear me!!"

"I... I hear you." he said weakly, trying to muster a smile to lessen the concern for his wellbeing. "I just... need a moment, that's all. Imoen, how're you doing?"

"Aside from the fact that someone just took a hammer to the inside of my head, great." she scowled, holding her forehead with a grimace. "What was that? Fer a second there, all I could hear was that... wait a minute. Over there-"

Imoen's keen eyes had caught movement off to the side- but how? She was still dazed from the vision they'd been given, if it could be called a vision- and Greywulf had felt a presence approaching as well- no. The taint within him... it was drawing him to whatever was near. Imoen must have felt it too-

A group of six emerged from the misty darkness; whatever slim hopes that the party had held, that they might somehow be an envoy of Ellesime, come to meet them or protect them, were dashed almost immediately. Despite the vaunted secrecy and the wards protecting this place, these six had apparently penetrated it and found the ones they sought. If they could feel the same presence of the taint that Greywulf felt... then it was no wonder they knew where to find them.

Two men wore the long flowing robes of magi, red and black, with enchantments of dark design that radiated a faint aura of evil. They each held daggers that glowed a faint green in the light of the evening. Another woman held a flail and wore plate armor, the symbol of Talos embossed upon the spiked shield she carried in her off-hand. Two others were half-ogres, each bearing a great sword... one figure remained. She stepped before them all, separating herself from the rest of her group. Her eyes were surrounded by dark tattoos, her demeanor feral, excited with what Greywulf feared was the thrill of the hunt. She wore emerald splint mail, light and of elvish design, much like what Imoen had been given to wear from the elven smiths of Suldenesselar. Her long, dark hair was soaked, the strands of it clinging to her face as she stopped, presenting herself in full view of them all, a taunting gesture if nothing else.

"And so I have found you at last." Illasera said, licking her lips in perverse anticipation of the bloodshed that was certain to occur. "You don't know just how much of an effort it was to try and find you- here in all these old wards, hidden by elven magics... you're a difficult one to hunt down."

"That's the idea, most of the time." Greywulf shot back, struggling to be heard over the intensifying downpour, but trying to keep her talking so that his mind- and Imoen's assuredly- would have time to clear, to focus again. "Not that I believe you come with peaceful intent, but who are you? What do you want?"

"As if you couldn't guess." Illasera shook her head with a laugh, throwing her head back to let the rain drench her face in its furious, chaotic embrace. She threw her gaze back down towards them, rain trickling down her features like tendrils of some denizen of the deep. "All you really need to know is that I have been given the pleasure of ending your life. Yours, and Imoen's. Do not think that she is of less value than you, here. Both of you are slated to die by my hand today. If that prospect frightens you, take heart in the knowledge that you are not the first Bhaalspawn I've killed. I keep a small souvenir of each one that I kill- perhaps I'll take those elven amulets you wear. I'll have plenty of time to make the choice, after all."

"Nobody will touch the friends of Minsc, not while he breathes, and breathe he does!" Always loyal Minsc- the ranger was the first to step out in defense of his allies and comrades. He had the Silver Sword at ready, waiting for a signal. "Do not tempt the wrath of Minsc and Boo, or you will know what it feels like to have your eyes chewed!"

Illasera laughed, sneering with contempt at the threats. "Your words mean as little to me as your life. You and the others are nothing. The Bhaalspawn... they will be a joy to slaughter. There is, after all, no greater thrill than feeling the blood of a sibling run down your hands... am I right?"

The implication of her words was not lost upon the group, but neither was her morbid taunt. Unbidden, memories of fighting Sarevok and watching him die in the Temple of Bhaal beneath Baldur's Gate flooded back to Greywulf's memory. The feeling of euphoria... he'd attributed it to simple joy in survival, in avenging Gorion. But... yes. Yes, there was a profound, almost maddening pleasure in causing the death of another Child of Bhaal. The look of anger that must've slid onto his features was all too apparent to the woman who had hunted them down. Illasera nodded, confirming the unasked question. "I am Bhaalspawn myself, obviously. These two... just two more trophies for my blade."

"You can try, if you like." Imoen spat angrily, her senses rapidly returning, and with it her anger. "We aren't yer ordinary Bhaalspawn."

"But neither am I, fool." she hissed. "Not all of us have been wandering Faerun like witless cattle, like the two of you and so many others of Bhaal's blood. Some of us have far greater aspirations. The time of Alaundo's prophecy has come, has it not? Surely you have sensed the outbreak of blood, the call of Murder. I could feel the echo of your taints as the rhyming ghosts that frequent this place touched your minds."

Illasera glanced behind her once, nodding in satisfaction as the rest of her party made ready their weapons, preparing for the fight that was about to commence. She brought her scimitar to guard, lowering her stance and weight with a deadly smile that spoke to nothing but absolute confidence in her abilities. "Great things are afoot- destiny has arrived, and your contribution to the annals of the Bhaalspawn will be your death. It has already been decided. I am Illasera the Quick, and I have been chosen to perform this deed. You cannot resist us."

"Irenicus. Firkraag. Sarevok." Greywulf spoke coldly, clenching his fist as he readied his magics within. "They all said the same thing. They're dead now. I'm not. Your odds don't look too good."

Illasera eyed the sorcerer for a second, then sneered. "We'll see."

She leapt forward with surprising speed, upon Greywulf before they had even moved to react. Her sword would have severed the wizard's head from his body, but the contingency spells he had prepared ahead of time kicked in as soon as her sword touched his neck. Stoneskins engulfed his body, ricocheting her blade off of him, even as a Spell Trap protected him from magic. His staff swung out and attempted to bat her aside, but she had already moved aside, leaping backward out of his range.

Her scimitar was back in its sheath and one arm was whipping her bow from her back, the other pulling an arrow from the quiver. Only now had Imoen and Aerie begun their spell craft, Jaheira and Minsc to advance at their foes. The sound of two erupting spells startled them, watching as the two wizards with their enemy launched fireballs, the orbs of flame exploding in their midst. Imoen and Aerie were both sent flying, tumbling into the woods beside them, fire scorching their bodies and singing their clothing. The heavy rains dampened the damage all would have taken, but the concussive force of the spells were still enough to scatter them all.

Jaheira's eyes flashed as she saw one of the half-ogres dropping his sword down upon her head where she had landed after the explosion. Her spear was off to the side as well, out of her reach. She rolled to the side, just barely avoiding a quick death. The sword continued to fall, chasing her as she attempted to find some room to recover, cutting grooves into the ground beside her, each one closer than the last. Jaheira's body thudded over something hard, a tight smile crossing her face as she did. Her hand darted out, gripping the shaft of her spear despite the slick feel the rain provided. Her hand whipped around, dragging the spear around to slam the back of her attacker's knees. They collapsed, the half-ogre taken by surprise as he began falling, stopped short as Jaheira's spear reversed motion to slam the tip into his chest, pushing him to the side as he collapsed to the ground, gurgling once before expiring completely.

Minsc backpedaled from the cleric facing him, narrowly dodging the swings of the flail aimed at him, powered by divine strength. The spiked ball swung past him to the left, Minsc bringing the Vorpal Sword down to try and cut the through the chain- the cleric bashed forward with the shield, not only blocking his strike but the spikes on the shield raking across Minsc's hands. It looked bloodier than it actually was, but the shock and pain was enough to loosen Minsc's grip, and another downswing of the flail sent the Vorpal Sword to the ground.

The shield came around again, this time aiming for his face. No time to try and recover the sword, she was pushing forward too fast. Minsc let himself go back completely, somersaulting backwards across the ground to put even more room between them, reaching to his back straps as soon as he came out of the roll. Stonefire and Frostreaver were in his hands in an instant- he turned his miniature retreat into an attack, lunging forward with Stonefire and letting the in-motion swing of the flail wrap itself around the axe head. Frostreaver came around to cut the now taut chain, destroying the weapon and leaving the cleric with nothing but a handle attached to a few links of chain. She recoiled as Minsc pressed forward, shaking the weapon loose of Stonefire- Minsc lurched in pain as an arrow lodged in his side, puncturing the heavy plate mail. Illasera smiled maliciously as she drew another arrow, firing with blinding speed at Greywulf, the wizard trying desperately to find cover as his protections fell with far too great a speed.

Imoen yelped as the sword of the second half-ogre warrior cleaved the tree she had been standing beside in two, splinters hitting her side as she fled, trying in vain to give herself room to cast a spell, bring her bow to bear, anything. Another near miss convinced her that waiting for such an opportunity would only lead to a defenseless death- Imoen jerked the enchanted short sword she wore from her belt, planting her feet defiantly as the half-ogre eyed the new weapon.

The monster bellowed a horrendous laugh, then lunged again, no respect for the girl or her skill with the blade. Were she a better warrior she might've been able to make use of the ogre's overconfidence... as it was, Imoen barely dodged the attack, then slashed downward with all her might. The cut wasn't particularly deep but it served enough purpose to enrage her opponent. The monster blitzed her at full speed, and this time there would be no escape- an arrow struck the half-ogre in the neck, a perfect shot between the low helm and the high breastplate. In the wood nearby, Elhan lowered his bow, nodding in satisfaction. The archers around him began their volleys a split-second later, the sounds of arrows piercing flesh echoing all throughout the clearing. Elhan surveyed the damage, expecting nothing less than total annihilation of those who had attacked the adventurers. Surely their ambush and skill had been enough to leave no survivors... no? Impossible.

Alone, the sole survivor of the elven assault, Illasera stood amidst arrows littered across the landscape, untouched by the volleys. Elhan and his men emerged from the forest, not bothering to acknowledge Greywulf and his companions but simply shouting a single word in elvish- another volley was loosed, but this time he saw the skill of Illasera the Quick firsthand. Her lithe body leapt and juked and rolled... she was unnaturally fast, and none of the arrows came close to touching her. She came out of a roll, dodging the last arrow- her own bow was raised and with the twang of a bow string, struck Imoen's shoulder, disrupting the half-completed spell that the girl had been working on.

Less than a second later, another arrow was loosed. One of Elhan's men dropped to his knees, an arrow lodged in his chest. She was too fast... far too fast to be allowed to pick them off like this. They needed to close the gap to force her into close combat... Greywulf began another spell, drawing her attention- as soon as she drew back her bow, he abandoned his work and lunged at her, staff in hand. It was a foolish gamble; the last of his Stoneskins dropped away as he came at her, and in the blink of an eye her bow was gone and her scimitar once again in hand. She spun out of the way, using his momentum to drive into a swing towards his neck, one that he barely blocked, though he spotted a chunk of wood fly from his staff with the impact of her blade. He let his progress drive him to the ground, on one knee. He punched out with his staff, just enough to drive her back, into a lightning bolt from Aerie. She ducked her head, letting the bolt pass over her by inches, with microseconds to spare. She rushed forward, coming to drive her scimitar at Aerie, the elven mage taken by surprise-

Minsc threw himself in the way, his armor enough to deflect the blow, his own counter-attack too slow to hit. She veered from that path to find a new route- Jaheira intercepted her, but her spear was nowhere to be found. Jaheira wrapped her arms around the woman and held on as tightly as she dared; the Bhaalspawn threw herself backwards, pushing Jaheira into a tree even as she flipped her scimitar's grip so that the sword pierced through Jaheira's leg, pinning her to the tree. Still Jaheira held on... and with a cry of druidic power, summoned lightning from the sky. Bolts of electricity rained down, striking Illasera and Jaheira together, cracking with ferocity and light enough to make all around look away- when the storm ceased, Jaheira remained unharmed, her Harper Pin protecting her from all danger. Illasera was a smoking husk, her flesh blackened and burned as she collapsed to the ground.

"Jaheira! Are you..." Greywulf came to her side in alarm, blood flowing from her thigh at an alarming rate. She moaned with effort as the blade came out with the tearing of flesh and the wrenching of metal- Her hands immediately went to the rain and blood soaked wound, trying to hold the flow for a moment while Aerie came to her side, already moving to act with her clerical magics-

A blaze of light erupted around Illasera's corpse, the body of the would-be assassin falling apart and dissipating into glittering sparks of golden light... the essence of Bhaal within her falling away from the mortal plane to rejoin her dead father. Elhan watched the spectacle with an eye of curiosity, then turned to the men and women he had aided. Before he could say a single word, a blast of magic like none they had felt before thundered all around, raining white beams of light and power around the five adventurers. It culminated in an explosion that knocked the elves off their feet- when the winds died and the only sound left was that of the rain falling, Elhan looked up and saw naught but the corpses of Illasera's followers, and small wisps of smoke where the five men and women had been standing mere seconds ago.

X X X X X X

"Son of a..." Greywulf glanced around him, dropping his face in one hand as he shook his head in despair. The sights around them were familiar... too familiar. Familiar as in having seen then them the last time they'd been embroiled in conflict involving the taint with his soul. As in being pulled into a miniature plane of Hell when they had clashed with Irenicus for the last time. It had been a disturbing place, one he hoped he would never see again, with its demonic statues, green skies, rocky cliffs and stairways that led to life-threatening tests. He sighed as he counted them off on his list. _Demonic statues? Check. Green, cloud covered skies? Check. Rocky, black ground and cliffs? Check. Five stairways that presumably lead to some life threatening tests of my own subconscious design? Well, I see five stairways, even if they're covered by hazy magic fields right now. So… a probable check._

"Eh? Where have you brought us, Boo?" Minsc asked, a puzzled expression on his face as he talked to the hamster in his palm. "I am duly impressed by your show of great powers, but a little forewarning would have been nice. No matter! Wherever evil treads, Minsc treads louder!"

"We have to stop coming here." Imoen sighed, even as she winced, the arrow still lodged in her shoulder. She collapsed to a seated position, waiting for Aerie to come from helping Jaheira, the druid in much worse condition than her at the moment.

"But why? Why has your power brought us here again?" Aerie asked with a glance to Greywulf as she held her hands over Jaheira's injury, the blue haze of her power covering it in light, closing the gap as the power of a Heal spell worked its powerful magic upon the druid.

"I don't-" Greywulf's words were cut short when another blast of light, not quite similar to the one that had brought them, blazed into existence. When it faded, a solitary figure, humanoid and female in form strode forth, towering over all. She stood nine feet tall, wearing bright silver armor; her skin was a light shade of blue while large, white feathered wings branched out from her shoulders, spread wide as she was tall. A gleaming golden halo hovered over this supernatural being's head; she was a being of heavenly court, if not divine. A giant scabbard hung at her side with the hilt of a sword that must have been at least five feet long visible, gleaming like burnished bronze. Her eyes glowed with the fire and intensity of the sun, yellow and piercing as they sought out those before her. A smile of satisfaction crossed her face, and when she spoke, it was a commanding yet soft, feminine voice that issued forth.

"I, Solar of the gods, greet you, god-child. You who are of divine blood... I have awaited you."

"A Solar?" Aerie whispered as she trembled. "They are the highest order of the angelic orders… only the High Archangel himself has more authority in the celestial armies."

"I am... humbled, Solar... but I fear you might've caught us at something of a bad time." Greywulf said, choosing his words carefully. The divine being before him was more powerful than all of them combined, and it would not do to offend... but letting his sister and his lover lie bleeding on the rocky ground wasn't going to happen either.

"You fear for the well-being of your companions?" the Solar noted, looking them over with a look that did not quite suggest concern, but interest nonetheless. She smiled, waving her hand over them once. "There... their wounds are healed. Now, to the business for which I have brought you. You have many questions- I can see as such in your eyes. For myself, it is as I said. I have existed since the first strand of fate was woven, a servant of the paths and the gods. I have watched your own path most carefully. Our own servant, who was the mortal Alaundo, spake the truths that became prophecy. It tells of your coming and of all the others who are the progeny of Bhaal. The spark of the divine rests within all of Bhaal's children and the time for their joining is nigh. I am here to aid you, god-child."

In the blink of an eye, every wound that they had suffered in the battle with Illasera had vanished, their bodies at full capacity, as if they hadn't fought through a skirmish that had nearly claimed the lives of three of them. Greywulf shook his head in disbelief, laughing cautiously. "I don't suppose this is a dream..."

"How would you define a dream?" The Solar replied calmly, almost as if she had not heard the half-joking tone in his voice. "If as a fleeting path without true substance…then this is no dream. I have brought you to this place and it is as real as you or I."

"But why?" Imoen asked, still unable to take her eyes off the vision of purity that presented itself before them. "This place... it is-"

"This is the layer of the Abyss once ruled by your sire, Bhaal. You have indeed been here before, although it was altered, then, by your own consciousness." the Solar answered. "Once more your own divine spark summons it forth… altered perhaps once again, but the same plane of divinity."

"Be careful, Greywulf." Jaheira whispered, a firm grip on her spear, as she eyed the Solar, standing to her feet. "I highly doubt it… but this could be a trick of your taint. Do not lower your guard completely."

"I am not here to fool or harm you, god-child." the Solar said, her words echoing over Jaheira's, eying the druid with what might have been amusement. "I may only teach, and you are free to consider my words and deem them false, if you wish. There is no consequence."

Jaheira's eyes narrowed… but between the healing of her leg and the natural aura of light that radiated from the celestial angel, she lowered her guard. Greywulf had never suspected the Solar of falsehood in the least, and so he quickly moved to prevent any further tones of distrust, asking her, "Please, Solar…what do you know of the prophecy?"

"The progeny of Bhaal are many…and now they are quickly being extinguished, their spark returning to its source. An event unfolds of divine significance, god-child." she said, fixing a gaze with Greywulf and Imoen. "You two are central to this Event. Many are the strings of fate that start or pass through you…though the end I cannot see. I must shepherd you through this time as best I can."

"How? Will the angel fight by Minsc's side? Oh, what a glorious day that would be!" Minsc declared with unbounded enthusiasm.

"I fear not." the Solar laughed. "I cannot interfere in such a manner. I can only prepare the two of you, the god-children that have rejected the path of darkness… aid in your education, you who are most unready to assume your destiny."

"What do you mean by that?" Imoen asked with a frown.

"I mean only that you are unready for the possibilities that await you. Your mortal mind does not readily comprehend the power in your blood. When you were last in your sire's realm, god-child, it was altered by your own consciousness without you even forming the intent to do so. You are not ready for the power. You must be ready." she affirmed with a nod. "It is your presence which determines the outcome of the prophecy, although even I cannot see it yet. When the time comes, you will be ready… I will make certain."

Greywulf felt his heart sink… long had he spurned the power his divine heritage offered him, not wanting to become a slave to it. Now it would seem he was losing that choice. "Solar, this power the prophecy speaks of… I don't want it. I never wanted any of it. Isn't there another way? Some way to... I don't know, a way to get rid of it?"

"You may not desire power, but you are a god-child. A spawn of Bhaal. Power is in your essence, and if you do not master it, it will master you." The Solar replied solemnly, frowning as a vision of the Slayer passed between them. "You yourselves have seen what happens when the power within is allowed free reign in your lives. With power must comes knowledge, god-child… as does the wisdom of how to use it with care. It shall come to you in time, as your destiny unfolds. I shall see you soon. Until then, hold your heart close and know that you are not alone."

With that, the light shone all around once more, the figure of the Solar vanishing within. It gradually faded, letting them unshield their eyes once more and see the dismal realm of darkness, even more so when compared with the glory that had left them behind. All that remained were her words; words that made little if no sense to them. Leaving this demonic realm would prove a difficult task as well- while there was no enormous door with reptilian eyes to guard it, in its place stood a gaping maw, lined by jagged teeth like rocks. Before anybody could even consider the idea of heading through, a voice came from the shadows behind them… a voice they had heard far, far too many times.

"So. You have finally arrived. I have been waiting for you."

Greywulf whirled to face the new presence, his heart pleading for him to have misheard, for the one he knew would be standing there to be somebody, _anybody _else.

"Eh? He is like bad penny, this one. An armored, deep-voiced penny of most sinister evil!" Minsc growled.

Sarevok's ethereal form, floating above the ground itself, grinned darkly.


	5. Part 1: A Deal with the Devil

"Sarevok!! By the sacred oaths of Silvanus, is there no end to you?" Jaheira's words did an accurate job of expressing the sentiment that everyone, with perhaps the exclusion of Aerie, felt upon seeing the visage of their old foe once again. Jaheira's spear rose to meet the apparition's face, her flashing eyes never leaving him, wary of any attacks or malice. "You taint the very land with your presence- must your foulness be stomped out ever to return?!"

His bellowing laugh did nothing to improve the druid's fiery temper; Greywulf stayed at the ready, expecting another attack from their repeated nemesis, but his eyes bore less the fear of battle and more the weary acceptance of one who's life has few surprises left to offer. "I honestly don't believe this... you have got to be kidding."

That voice, still echoing through the air, was enough to convince him of the nature of that which stood before them. Many had attempted to play on his memories of the past, old faces of both friend and foe, and Greywulf liked to think he had gotten fairly good at spotting the fakes, which happened to be most of them. Something inside him was telling him though... this was no fake. No conjured vision to try and get inside his head, no mental fear that he had to face in order to pass. This was the man that they had killed nearly two years ago. This was the man they'd fought in the Realm of Hell a month ago. Despite the indistinct form, the blurred lines and the floating above the ground, there could be no mistake. He wore the same bladed armor, the same Bhaal-skull helmet. His eyes still glowed yellow under the cover of his helmet. This was Sarevok Anchev, the Deathbringer.

He seemed to be relishing the horrified attention he was getting from the group as a whole, the fearful anticipation of what terrors he planned to unleash upon his hated enemies; Greywulf was disinclined to let him carry out whatever plot he undoubtedly had, one which would almost certainly end with mortal combat. He was about to say something before Minsc turned to him, Silver Sword at guard. "Should we begin fighting? If we are to battle again, Minsc would know now."

Greywulf turned back to Sarevok, and in response, raised a hand, beginning the process of summoning a Horrid Wilting. "He raises a good point, Sarevok. Kill him."

Minsc's war cry was teeth-rattling in its intensity, and Greywulf was scarcely able to keep track of what took place in those brief moments before his spell reached fruition. Minsc was a blur as he leapt forward, sword arcing to cut Sarevok's indistinct form from hip to shoulder. Jaheira's rush was not a second after- her spear aimed straight for the unprotected face. A fireball exploded upon the ground beneath Sarevok's floating form once Jaheira and Minsc were clear of the blast radius, and Aerie's divine magics brought a pillar of fire from the skies to rain down upon the embattled spectre. Before the flames could subside, Greywulf's spell finished, and he hurled the brown skull with all his might. A 'whumph' of magic erupted as the skull exploded, brown dust obscuring the area where Sarevok had floated a few moments ago. Jaheira took a tentative step forward, squinting into the smoke to try and spot their foe. It had been, for all intents and purposes, a flawless assault. He had not moved a muscle, and each attack had struck precisely as it had been intended.

In retrospect, it was something of a shame, considering how futile the efforts actually were. Jaheira spat a curse as she backed away, the dust and the fire fading to reveal the wraith, faded and more distorted than before, but nonetheless present. Sarevok grunted, and with what looked like a strain of effort, his features smoothed again, becoming as he had been before their attack. "Away with you, fools. I have waited a long time to speak with Greywulf, and I shall not be interrupted by your futile attempts at destroying my spirit."

The sorcerer in question glowered at Sarevok's wraith, his face a mixture of anger, frustration and despair. "Answer me this. Didn't we kill you in Hell? For a second time? What, may I ask, does it take to get rid of your damned presence?! Or are we just destined to repeat this little feud for all eternity?"

"Be careful what you say... prophecies have a way of expressing themselves in such uncaring statements." Sarevok sneered, floating closer to his half-brother. "Yes... you did kill me in Hell, though that was no fault of my own. It was you who summoned me, and since then I have done nothing but wait for your return. As far as what it takes to get rid of me... far more power than you possess. You might be able to damage this form that I have willed into existence, but it is a simple matter to reform myself. You cannot banish me completely."

Sarevok was interrupted by an arrow that zipped through his ethereal head, leaving a neat hole that filled itself in moments, Sarevok glowering darkly at Imoen as she drew another arrow. "I said that it was a simple matter to reform myself... not that it was a pleasant one."

"Maybe I can't get rid of you..." Greywulf considered quietly, glancing at Aerie with a knowing nod, "But you're still undead..."

"And I have a way with such creatures." Aerie said in an echoing voice, her eyes glowing white as she raised a hand, mist rising around the elven girl as she brought her clerical powers over the undead to bear. "Begone, spirit!"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence- Sarevok broke it with a raucous laugh, shaking his head in disgust. "Do you think so little of me? That I am one of those pathetic undead creatures that haunt the mortal realms? I am nothing but a shade, and as you seem so slow to realize, you do not have the power to force me to leave your home"

"Then what, may I ask, do you want?" Greywulf grimace, his teeth grinding together. This man was able to raise his ire like no other- Sarevok had been the cause of so much suffering in his life, there were few others, perhaps only Jon Irenicus and the vampire Bodhi who had been able to trigger such a reaction from the normally even-tempered half-elf. "And what are you doing here in the first place? Did you bring us here?"

"Did I-?" Sarevok seemed slightly surprised by the question, then settled in place, a broad smile crossing his dark features. "Heh... hehehaha!!! Such irony... unbelievable, really. You have no clue where you are or how you got here. For all the power you have amassed over these past years, you have learned absolutely *nothing* of your true potential, of the taint that rests in your blood."

A bolt of lightning thundered across the hellish plane, jumping from Imoen's hand as it tore a hole through Sarevok's body. The wraith looked down at the hole, the ethereal flesh and armor slowly reforming once more, Sarevok snarling at the smirking Imoen. "Do not do that again."

"If you want me to stop poking holes in yer little ghost body, then maybe you should stop taunting and start explaining things." Imoen countered. "For starters, where are we?"

Sarevok paused, as though considering disobeying Imoen's orders to merely spite her, but whether simply tiring of the game or spurred to action by Imoen drawing another arrow to her bow, he finally, a disgusted tone in his voice, spoke. "To think that the two of you stumble about, blind to your true power, while I am reduced to this. Bah! Very well, I shall tell you where you are. As the angel told you, this is part of our father's abyssal realm; the plane once ruled by Bhaal and now given form by the taint within your soul... but no longer present in mine. You have been here before, when you hunted the mage who had absconded with your soul."

"I had thought Irenicus was responsible for creating that plane of existence..." Jaheira said with a frown, before Sarevok shook his head, presumably in disgust at the ignorance of those around him.

"Have you heard nothing of what I said? The mage took Greywulf's soul, not his taint. It is the taint which gives this place form, and the taint which prevents you from being torn apart by the powers of the Realm of Bhaal. You would not survive more than a few moments, if that, in the true Realm of Murder. This is a... a cocoon, of sorts. A miniature version of our father's larger realm, sort of a plane-within-a-plane. I assume that your mind formed it to protect you all from the power of this place, power you cannot yet control. Rather ingenious, dear brother... I would not have thought you clever enough for such a thing."

"Ehh... Minsc has lost himself in all this talk of planes and outer realms." the ranger shook his head in confusion. "Boo would simply know what it is that the evil warrior wants!"

"What I want? Come now, are you all so truly stupid?" Sarevok shook his head. "I come to offer you a deal... my aid, in return for your assistance in restoring myself to life."

Again, naught but silence. This time, however, broken by Greywulf, the sorcerer throwing his head back and laughing long and loud. Sarevok watched blankly, waiting for Greywulf to finish, wiping a tear from his eye as he regarded Sarevok with what looked like faint amusement now. "I'm sorry... really. It's just that I haven't laughed that hard in a while. Still, I'll play along. Let's say, for kicks and giggles, that I gave this idea of yours serious consideration. Neither Aerie nor Jaheira is strong enough to resurrect the dead- just how do you propose we being you back? And while we're at that, just how long would it be after you came back to life that I'd have a sword lodged in my head?"

"You think I'd waste another chance at life on simple efforts of revenge? If I killed you here, your comrades would slay me... assuming I even managed to bring you low." the admission of his inability to kill them was the first sign of weakness they had ever heard pass from his lips- their surprise at his words was enough for them to remain quiet while he continued. "Whether you believe me or not, revenge is not my motivation here. As for how to bring life back to my spirit, I would need a gift... the smallest fraction of your soul, brother. The tiniest piece of your spirit, given freely, with the taint and the spark of our dead father within. That would recreate my flesh, restore my mortality... I, Sarevok would live again!"

"All the time you've spent here in Hell must have made you daft, or driven you insane." Jaheira snapped, though she moved to Greywulf's side protectively, as though fearful that the wraith would reach out and take what he desired by force. "We have killed you twice, to date… what makes you think we would ever want to bring you back to life?"

"I do not come to the table empty-handed. Do you think me a fool? You are... you are stronger than me. I do not contest that." Sarevok admitted rather grudgingly. "But I can help you. And that has its price."

"What makes the evil specter think that Minsc and friends need help?" the ranger peered down at Sarevok, folding his broad arms as Boo scampered onto his left shoulder. "Boo has all the guidance that Minsc needs."

"Hah! The ignorance I have seen is only exceeded by your naiveté." Sarevok snorted in disgust. "Still, if you need proof that I will be of use, go and try to leave this place. Explore, do what you can. I will be waiting for you here when you realize the full extent of your helplessness."

His challenge, the contempt in his voice was infuriating, but at the same time, the man was not known for bluffing. When he made threats, he was more than able to back them up... Greywulf did not budge, but instead glanced toward the others. "Minsc, Jaheira... go ahead and check out those staircases. Im, Aerie... take a peek at that doorway beyond. I'll keep an eye on our guest here."

The other four, reluctantly, moved to do what he said, leaving the two siblings to their silent gaze- neither rival moving a muscle. Sarevok was trying hard not to laugh at the sorcerer, veritably squirming under the pressure of Sarevok's words. How it must have rankled the mage to not only tolerate his presence, but admit that he needed Sarevok's help. Probably as much as it rankled him to admit that Greywulf and his company were stronger than he. Still, he would enjoy this moment to its fullest, and it would be all the sweeter when Greywulf, the man who had sworn to kill Sarevok, was forced to bring him back to life. Granted, the possibility always existed that they would kill him once they had his aid in leaving this place... but he doubted it. They weren't the type. Far too honest, far too ready to abide by their word. Were it he in Greywulf's place... he'd resurrect the mage, get whatever help he needed, then cut his head off, regardless of any promises.

Those eyes... so penetrating, so unsettling. It was said the eyes were the gateway to a man's soul, and looking into them could tell you the measure of a man, could tell you whether he was lying or whether he was a coward. Sarevok's glowing yellow orbs gave nothing away. Try as he might, he could gain nothing, no feeling or inkling of the man's motivations, no matter how he studied the man who had killed Gorion. He felt his anger rise again, but he pushed it away, unwilling to let the rage he felt for Sarevok cloud his judgment. No doubt the man was counting on it- well, he'd simply have to disappoint. He would find out just what Sarevok was up to, and when he had, he'd know how to handle it. If that meant resurrecting the villain... he'd done worse things. If it meant resurrecting the villain and then killing him afterwards... well, that wasn't exactly a battle Greywulf would relish, but he'd be damned if Sarevok ruined another life the way he'd ruined his and Imoen's.

The sound of Minsc grunting as he swung his blade against the magical barriers protecting the stairways echoed back to the pair, as did the frightened yelp of Aerie as the jagged maw surrounding the doorway in the middle of the realm slammed shut upon her attempt to peer inside. Sarevok glanced behind him at Aerie and Imoen, the thief-mage holding Aerie by the arms, making sure she was okay- he turned back to Greywulf with a smug, knowing smile. "I told you, brother. You need my help, like it or not. Hmm- if it will make you feel better, know that the idea of depending on you repulses me as well."

"Oh, but it does." Greywulf snapped as the others slowly, reluctantly, returned to his side, admitting defeat. "So. How can you help us?"

"The knowledge of how to leave this plane of yours, for starters. That is one thing I can give you, although I did not know that when I came here. No, what I think you will find most useful- and beneficial to your continued survival, for that matter- knowledge that is much more relevant to your destiny, to the time that is now upon us. Knowledge that dates back to my mortal days when I was gaining power within the Iron Throne." Sarevok folded his ethereal arms, confident in his own position of bargaining. "I see the hesitation in your eyes, and I tell you the truth; I know where your destiny lies and I know where you must go to find it. Search about on your own and it will soon be too late…the time of the old prophecies is upon us, that much is clear. Or upon *you*, at least. What say you?"

"I say that you are a liar that would say and do anything to further your own ends." Jaheira growled, her animosity towards Sarevok open and unabashed. Were he alive, it was not clear whether she would strike him where he stood. He had scarcely seen her so infuriated; whether it was at the arrogance and self-assuredness of their foe, or the simple thought of truly bringing him back to life after all he had done... she could not bear it. Would not bear it. And on any other day of the week, Greywulf would have been right there with him. But now... after what the Solar had told him-

It was true. Only hours ago, he had been pondering the path that destiny was sweeping Imoen and him down. The entire purpose of going to the elven grove had been to discover more of the prophecies and how the two siblings fit into them. The attempt on their lives had done nothing but convince him that finding the truth was of even greater import than ever... and here was a chance to take a step in that direction. A leap, even. Making a deal with the devil... could it be done, and not come back to haunt them?

"You won't do it, will you?" Aerie asked, her tones breaking Greywulf from his concentration. She looked at him, and he saw fear in the Avariel's eyes. She had come so far, but Sarevok... she had not faced him back in Baldur's Gate, and did not know just how dark, just how evil this monster truly was. And yet... she could see evil. She could feel the darkness within him. And she was afraid. "You told me of the thousands he killed while alive… won't he just do the same if we bring him back? Please... don't do this."

Her tone was almost a plea- and again, Greywulf wanted nothing more than to agree, to cast this murderer out. He had killed so many in cold blood... Gorion had been foremost among those murders. His fist clenched at the thought and the red tinted the corners of his vision. No... calm. Peace. He had to be at peace when dealing with this man. Far too easy to let emotion govern his actions, to let the rage he kept inside loose.

"And just... just what do you intend to do with your new life?" Greywulf managed, forcing the tightness in his chest to subside. "As if we couldn't guess."

"Perhaps not." Sarevok replied quietly, the tiniest bit of uncertainty tainting his confident tones. "I… I do not know. Avoid crossing you, brother, certainly that. My ambition was everything, once; you know this as well as anyone. But now that the taint is gone, I am unsure. But I wish to live, that much is certain. I wish to live."

"You will not do this, Greywulf. Do not. Whatever he says, whatever promises he makes, they are nothing to him. He will betray you, and you know it." Jaheira said, her voice like two stones grinding together. "We can find another way..."

"But can we find one in time?" Greywulf turned to face her, the desperation he felt showing on his face. "We need what he's offering. We can't wait forever, and we don't have time to search for these things. He can tell us what we... what I, need to know."

"Isn't that... isn't that kind of the point?" Aerie pointed out, shaking her head in disapproval. "Wouldn't he... I mean, from everything you've told me... wouldn't he say exactly what you wanted to hear if he thought it would get you to help him?"

"And don't forget what he's asking for." Imoen grabbed Greywulf's arm, worry in her eyes. "Remember what Irenicus did to us? What he took? He's asking for the same thing, part of your soul. That's no small gift, especially for scum like him."

It was, at that. After losing his soul, there was no way he'd take something like this lightly. Not that he would've no matter what the cost. Still, he had the sinking feeling that Sarevok was telling the truth, at least about this. Resurrections were tricky things- adding Bhaal-taint to the equation would only intensify any problems with resurrecting someone so long dead. Times like these... he missed Keldorn's voice of reason, of wisdom more than ever.

"Is... is that it? No other way to resurrect you?" he felt as though he knew the answer before the former Child of Bhaal spoke... but the hesitation was enough to surprise Greywulf. Sarevok's face had grown oddly curious, as though a strange thought had entered his mind, a concept he had not considered previously.

"Hmm... perhaps. Perhaps there might be another way at that." Sarevok's lips spread in a thin smile, his yellow gaze turning to fix on Imoen. "To restore myself, it would not necessarily require a portion of *your* taint. Any small piece of the Bhaal essence that was freely given would suffice."

The import of what Sarevok had just said took a moment to register, but soon everyone's attention was on Imoen, a look of hesitant fear on the young woman's face.

"He… he's talking about me, isn't he? About the Bhaal taint that's been growing inside me." she said softly, Aerie drawing near with ardent disapproval expressed in her elven features.

"Indeed- and while the idea of harboring a sugary sweet part of your soul inside me for eternity does not exactly thrill me," Sarevok said, his voice dripping with disdain, "It would also be enough to accomplish this… though I doubt our dear sister here has half the courage necessary to do the job."

"I'm not as sweet as you think!" Imoen shouted, pulling away from Aerie as she glared angrily at Sarevok. "You don't even deserve a second chance at life! You killed Gorion, remember? Or was that just another murder on the way to your power, huh?!"

"Indeed it was." Sarevok replied calmly, showing no discomfort at all. "I killed him, just as I killed hundreds of others on that road. For all the impact his death had on your lives... for me, he was an obstacle. Something to be destroyed and discarded."

His callous words were almost enough to push Greywulf over the edge- he began to peak with strangled fury, "You dare-?"

"Indeed I do, because in the end you are no better than I." Sarevok cut him off, giving the furious sorcerer a withering stare. "Ask yourself... how many have you killed to get here? How many has Imoen killed? Just how many were nothing more than obstacles to be destroyed and discarded? I don't speak of monsters or mindless creatures, I talk about men and women like your Gorion, those who were doing what they thought was right, for whatever reason, selfish or not. How many souls rot in the Abyss from your spells and swords? The only difference between you and I is that I have chosen to face this fact. You have ignored it, and cower in the face of its truth. I would pity you, were I capable of it."

Greywulf wanted to shout a rebuttal, to deny it all with such vehemence that Sarevok would never dare try and compare them again... but the cries died on his lips. For all his taunting, for all his wickedness, Sarevok was right, and he knew it. All of them had done their share of blood-letting... intentional or not, it had given them power, brought them to this point in time. He hadn't had a choice, most of the time, but in the end, the body count remained the same. The blood was still on their hands.

He turned to glance at Imoen, and as their gazes met, they both saw the truth in one another's eyes. As vile as the thought was... they needed him. And one of the two had to make the choice. After everything they'd been through to reclaim their souls- one of them had to give up a part of it once more, all for a man they'd let rot in an instant. Imoen swallowed, and Greywulf saw the intent in her eyes; he shook his head, immediately unwilling to let her make such a sacrifice. "Imoen, no. I refuse to let you make that sacrifice for him. There's got to be another way."

"But there isn't." Imoen cut him off. "Not unless you do the same. And in the end, it's not your decision to make."

"Then I'll make it my decision." Greywulf insisted, reaching out with a hand to halt her from approaching Sarevok any further. He paused a moment to look back at Sarevok, his wraith watching the events with faint amusement. "No way he's hurting you, not after everything that-"

A blaze of pinkish-red rippled through the air around Greywulf, freezing him to the spot without warning. The sound of the Power Word faded into nothingness as Imoen walked past Greywulf, pausing briefly to look back at his frozen body with an apology. "Sorry... but I'm not letting you take this one for me. This is important… and if you think it's necessary, then I'll do it. You risked everything to save me from Bodhi… and that means I'm willing to give it all back again if need be. Besides... heh, it's about time Im gets to play the hero, right?"

"Child, just what do you think you're doing?!" Jaheira took a step towards Imoen, shaking her head in disapproval, laying one hand on her shoulder. "You-"

Imoen uttered another Power Word, and Jaheira found herself frozen to the spot, her hand shrugged off Imoen's shoulder without any trouble. Imoen glanced at Aerie and Minsc, a pained look in her eyes. "Tell me I'm not gonna have to stun you two."

"Imoen!" Aerie exclaimed, wild protest in her eyes. "I... no. No, you won't."

Minsc shook his head gravely, leaving his witch's side to embrace Imoen gently, nodding in acceptance of her decision. "Minsc trusts you, little one."

She smiled weakly, then turned back to the leering gaze of Sarevok, towering over here, even in spirit form. He removed his helmet, revealing the bald head and tattooed face underneath as he warned, "Are you sure of this, girl? This must be a willing sacrifice on your part. You cannot turn back later and claim it was Greywulf using you."

"Absolutely." Imoen glared at him defiantly. "I would die for Greywulf, and more. Maybe you'll learn what it's like to have that kind of family someday, 'brother'."

"I'm sure that with part of your soul inside me, I'll be prancing gaily through flower fields in no time." Sarevok snorted. "Nonetheless, I'll take that as a yes."

Sarevok discarded the helmet, then reached out, taking Imoen's hand with surprising solidness, lifting it so that the tips of her fingers touched his forehead...

A blast of light ignited as soon as they connected, a shock wave that flung both spirit and living back. Minsc leapt out and caught Imoen,, preventing her from tumbling head over heels on the rocky cavern ground; he helped her to her feet, Imoen obviously shaken by the experience but showing no signs of weakness or otherwise that might have called the veracity of Sarevok's words into question. Aerie had unconsciously taken a few steps back as she watched the spirit on his hands and knees slowly begin to materialize- she bumped into Greywulf, both he and Jaheira freed from the effects of the spell by a dispel from Imoen herself. Greywulf watched Sarevok with a hard stare as what was once ghostly slowly became solid, the apparition becoming distinct until there was no doubt in their minds. It was a living, breathing being that climbed to his feet before them, wild joy shining across his face as he took a long, deep breath, the first time in so long.

"I... I live! Flesh and blood and bone! I am alive again!!" Sarevok shouted, laughing wildly as he raised his hands in triumph. "I swore I would scratch and crawl my way back into the world of the living…and I have done it!"

"Sarevok lives again." Jaheira whispered to Greywulf, shooting Imoen a glare of disapproval that turned to anger as she returned her gaze to Sarevok, the man glorying in his newfound life. "You and Imoen had your reasons, and I understand them... but I shall never agree with this decision. Ever."

"Bah... my sword has not reappeared, and this armor is worthless without the power of Bhaal coursing through them." Sarevok continued with a hint of disdain, oblivious to Jaheira's comments as he looked himself over. "I shall make do without them, as I once did. Thank you, Greywulf. I am pleased."

"Don't thank me. Thank Imoen." Greywulf exhaled, doubling up Jaheira's initial look of disapproval with one of his own as his sister finally got her balance back, Minsc walking her forward until they were beside Aerie.

"Indeed." he smirked and bowed to Imoen. "My deepest gratitude belongs to you, sister. I shall treasure this small piece of you within me always."

"You'd better…" Imoen warned, frowning with a bit of uncertainty. "Though… I don't feel any different. I would have thought-"

"Did I not say it was an insignificant portion?" Sarevok reminded. "I suspected that doing it here, in this place, it might work… but I was not sure. It is good to see that I was correct after all."

Imoen recoiled in angry disbelief, before stepping forward with fury in her features, "You weren't sure?! You mean you bluffed me out of giving up part of my soul for you?!!"

"I did not get to where I was in life without risk, fool." Sarevok growled back, raising an armored hand to halt her advance. "Call it what you will, but I had enough knowledge to guess that it would work, and so I was proven correct. What is done is done, and your impotent rage will solve nothing further, other than lead you to a premature death at my hands. I imagine that the rest of you, at least, are eager to hear what I have to say."

Sarevok turned his back on the fuming Imoen, then gestured toward the doorway that she and Aerie had investigated earlier, its cavernous maw having creaked open after they left, and was once again beckoning with its star filled abyss. "That... that is the exit to this place, as you may have guessed. Because this plane is an extension of the taint within Greywulf, he alone may command its opening and closing. You must will it, and it will happen." Having turned away from the others, they could not see the slight smirk emerge on Sarevok's features. He was telling the truth... to a point. Those with the will, the knowledge, and the taint within, could also shape the realm. Not to the extent Greywulf could, but to a point. It would have been remarkably difficult for them to leave had they not resurrected Sarevok- he had, after all, been exerting very ounce of willpower he could muster to keeping that doorway closed.

"Fair enough," Greywulf said, and the tone of voice he spoke with made Sarevok pause a moment- he knew. He knew Sarevok was lying, at least partially. The boy was good. Better than the last time they'd met in flesh, that was certain. He would have to take greater care around his half-brother... it would seem he was not quite as much a fool as it seemed. "And what of the barred stairways? Any ideas about them?"

Well. The best defense was a good offense, wasn't it? He turned and gave Greywulf a withering look, shaking his head in a mixture of annoyance and contempt. "Have you heard nothing? This place is yours to command. Yours to control. But those... those passageways are different, aren't they? Yes... I can feel the conflicting energies within them. They are not for you to open when you want them... but when you need them. Ah... I see now. Much like your destiny, in and of itself."

Echoing over Sarevok's voice, the sound of one of the shimmering walls of energy dissipating got the attention of the group, who watched the barrier fall, then returned their attention to a smugly satisfied warrior. "Did I not speak the truth? You know as much of these chambers of testing as I. You faced five when searching for the mage that took your soul... if you seek further answers, I suggest you investigate them. It may be dangerous... another thing I should mention is that your ability to transport here is not limited to simply yourself- you may bring others here as well to assist you, assuming your fates have been suitably intertwined. How do you think the others followed you so easily?"

"Honestly, I'd rather not summon anyone else into this miniature plane of Hell, if I can avoid it." Greywulf countered, not saying what he was really thinking. _And knowing you, it would just summon hordes of the undead or a throng of beholders._ "You said you knew about my destiny. Talk."

If the big man found Greywulf's demanding, hostile tones offensive, he did not show it. Rather, he seemed almost to take a perverse pleasure in the not-quite-suppressed animosity brewing between the two of them. He tugged on the heavy metal gauntlets he wore, flexing his fingers beneath as he spoke. "I said it before- your destiny is not yours to claim when you desire it, but when you need it. You may leave this plane of yours at any time, but it will not take you back to wherever it is you were wasting your time. It will take you where you need to be... Saradush."

"I recognize the name." Jaheira murmured, frowning as she dug into her memories. "A city of Tethyr, near the south, past the Marching Mountains. It has been some time since anything of import has happened in that place- why should we wish to go there?"

"In my youth, I spent much of my time looking into the old lore of the dead Bhaal priesthood." Sarevok answered, folding his arms. "I did not become a Grand Duke based on skill of arms alone- I spent years honing my intelligence and my wits as well. One of the old prophecies was uncovered in a somewhat... uncooperative, sect of Cyric. Needless to say, they were willing to share their knowledge with the right persuasion."

"And just what did they have to say?" Greywulf cut him off, unwilling to hear any of the bloody tales Sarevok no doubt had in abundance. "I doubt they just threw out the name Saradush for you to follow and track down."

"No, not quite." Sarevok admitted. "The language of the prophecy was archaic, and it took many days of study before I was able to determine the location they spoke of. But it is Saradush, of that there is no doubt. The Sword Coast will run red with blood... and the mouth of the river shall flow from that city. It is where the first step of the prophecy for the Children of Bhaal will unfold."

"You said you studied the prophecies... they didn't mention any of the Bhaalspawn by name, or however it is you found Saradush, did they?" Imoen asked, still angry with the man but curious despite herself.

A heavy chuckle came from Sarevok's throat as he shook his head, his eyes flashing in response. "They do... in a manner of speaking. It is impossible to tell just who they speak of until it is too late- but they mention the power that one of the Children will attain, and it all begins in Saradush."

"And I'll bet yer just hoping that you turn out to be that person, hmm?" Imoen shot back with a frown.

Her words made Sarevok pause, a rare enough sight that all took notice. He chose his next words carefully before speaking. "No... perhaps, but it is impossible, now. Bhaal's essence left me as I died- a sight that I'm sure you were present for. That which has been given to me does nothing more than maintain my mortality. Some might consider me a Bhaalspawn still... but I am not. It is solely a matter of history and memory, nothing more."

"Minsc has a question." the ranger said, stepping forward to peer at Sarevok carefully, though it had been some time since Minsc had met someone he could almost look at eye-level. "How do we know that everything you say is not an evil lie to trick us? Boo does not like being lied too, and neither does Minsc."

"Heh... hah!" Sarevok barked a laugh, chuckling lightly before turning deadly serious. "Of course you cannot trust me. Why would you? If you want assurance that I have not lied to you, then there is but one way to do so. Take me with you."

"Take you with us?!" Imoen exclaimed in disbelief. "So you can betray us, stab us in the back? I know ya don't think too much of us, but don't treat us like complete morons!"

"I was once certain that the old prophecies centered around me. Even if that is no longer the case, I know more about them than perhaps anyone. I can help you- with the challenge in that room and more. Of course... I do this for no selfless reason." Sarevok said, a feral, almost hungry grin beginning to grow on his face. "I desire power. I have always desired power. And where could I gain more than at your side, in your wake? I am sure I am not the first to tell you this- there is no better opportunity for me elsewhere. For all the grudges we might bear for one another, you defeated me long ago, and have earned my respect. Think of it, Greywulf! Brother and brother, side by side!"

"Skip the dramatics, Sarevok, I'm not impressed." Greywulf growled, not believing what he was hearing. "Why would we possibly want to keep you with us? What could make you think we'd even consider the prospect?!"

"Per your first question, aside from the knowledge I retain, I am a warrior of no small ability. You fought me- you would know. I have only become stronger from my time in Hell. Under one such as you, I could be greater, still." Sarevok said with a knowing smile. "As for your other question- where would you be right now, without me? Still wandering about this plane, trying hopelessly to find an exit. By the time you escaped, the power of the other Children would have dwarfed yours so completely that you would be but dust under their feet. It is I who has saved your place in the annals of history, and if you still maintain the foolish notion that you can somehow... 'save' the Realms from the Bhaalspawn, then you will need my knowledge, and my blade."

That was the damnable thing about arguing with this man, something that Greywulf had learned in just a few moments. He didn't necessarily have to lie to you to get under your skin. The truth was far more effective... and in those last few sentences, he had spoken nothing but the truth. Every reason he'd given was valid, every point flawless. If it were anyone else... well, almost anyone else, he'd have nodded, said 'Come aboard,' and they'd have been on their way. But it was Sarevok. Sarevok, Gorion's killer. The one who had haunted his dreams for years after their first meeting. The man who above every other foe, was inextricably linked to him, the one who had sent him on this path in the first place.

"No. No deal. I won't have you following behind us, ready to slit our throats as soon as it suits you. You've got your life, and once we get out of this place, you're on your own." Greywulf said firmly, and he could have sworn he heard a sigh of relief from one or more of his comrades. They'd been afraid he'd say yes, that he would allow the man passage with them. How could they assume he'd be so naive?

"I had a feeling you might say that." Sarevok nodded, shrugging mildly. "If it will help ease your suspicions, I will take an oath to follow you. Here, in this place, an oath would have power, much like a geas. I could not betray you."

And just like that, Greywulf found himself right back where he started. _Damn, he's good. _

For a moment, Greywulf did not speak, only studied Sarevok, trying to feel his deceit, his ulterior motive for this offer. He stretched out with all his might, seeking the damning evidence and feelings that would allow him to slam Sarevok's offer into the ground again… and he could not find it. The aura of evil was still there, there was no denying; Sarevok was a warrior of darkness through and through. But lies, deceptions… none of it could he sense in the man's words. He was indeed a great warrior, better than Minsc, better than Solaufein or Keldorn. Possibly the greatest he had ever seen. He was even willing to undergo a geas to follow him-

"Greywulf, can we have a word with you?"

Jaheira's cold voice cut through his thoughts as he noticed her and the others off away from Sarevok, awaiting his arrival. He nodded and followed, readying himself for the tongue-lashing he would receive as soon as the others knew that he was-might be- considering this possibility.

"You're *not* seriously considering this." Jaheira warned, her eyes widening when he failed to answer immediately. "You are, aren't you! What is the matter with you, whelp? Have you gone mad?! Have you forgotten how long he tried to kill us, how long we tried to kill him? What could possibly make you want to take him with us?"

"I didn't sense any lies in his words, Jaheira-" he began, cut off before he could say any more.

"Did our experience with Yoshimo teach you nothing?!" she sputtered. "Am I the only one who sees the folly in this?"

"I don't like this either, Greywulf." Aerie said, shaking her head. "I feel the evil clinging to him… the way he looks and acts. The things you've told me about him, the bloodthirstiness; he killed Gorion, right? Don't take him with us."

"He did kill Gorion." Greywulf conceded with a sharp intake of breath. "And I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that. Or forgive it. But he paid for it… we avenged his death and killed Sarevok for it. Yes, he's evil… but so is the creature inside me."

"That's different, and you know it." Imoen shook her head. "You've tried to contain that evil your whole life; Sarevok's tried to feed it."

"All the more reason we should keep an eye on him. If we just send him on his way... who knows how he'll interfere. He knows too much of the Bhaal-prophecies to be left to his own devices. If we take him with us, even if it's just for a while, we can make sure he's not doing what we fear he will." Greywulf reasoned. It was getting far too easy to justify this decision to himself. "Besides… from a purely tactical standpoint, we need to replenish our forces. Ever since we lost Keldorn and Solaufein-"

The logic was cold and unfeeling, and he knew it. Aerie looked hurt, and Jaheira nearly turned on her heel and walked away. Imoen finally raised her hands in surrender, nearly pleading with him. "Why, though? Why do we have to do this? You can use whatever power you've got here and summon other people... Mazzy, or Valygar, or Anomen!"

"Why are you so insistent on this, Greywulf?" Aerie asked, unable to understand. He met her gaze, her desperate search to see just what he was thinking, just what twisted logic he'd come up with to justify bringing one of their greatest enemies with them. It would be like bringing Irenicus with them. He could only imagine the longer road that would turn into.

"I... I don't know, okay." he confessed. "You've heard his reasons, and you've heard my reasons. Believe me when I say that I don't want him with us any more than you do, but this is a decision I have to make. And I say he comes. With or without your approval."

The final tone of Greywulf's words suggested the same determination that had served him and kept him alive so far… a determination they knew he would not turn from, nor could they turn him from by words alone. Imoen sighed and turned away, striding back to Sarevok, followed by Aerie. Jaheira glared for a moment longer, then leaned in towards him, speaking quietly, calmly. "Fine. Take him with us if you must. It is your mistake to make. I refuse to acknowledge him… and I will be there to rescue you when this disaster blows up in your face."

Greywulf exhaled, watching as the others left, leaving only Minsc still at his side. "Well Minsc… what about you?"

"I think… I think that you are Minsc's friend. I think that Boo and I have trusted you so far… and we will trust you in this. I also think that Minsc does not approve of the oath. Our funny friend Yoshimo did bad things under the oath. You are not like Irenicus... but a man should be free to follow his own heart, and such things are not possible under oaths such as this. Perhaps this makes Minsc foolish... but Boo does not think so." the ranger considered.

It came as something of a shock to Greywulf, hearing those words from Minsc. It was easy to forget that underneath the childlike exterior, the hamster-crazed madness... Minsc had more than a few nuggets of wisdom to share when you least expected it. And again, for all intents and purposes, Minsc was right. He'd seen the destructive power that a geas could cause in a man's life... he'd felt it himself, underneath Adalon's thumb. He'd refused to let the elves of Suldenesselar do it to Solaufein... could he force one on Sarevok? It wasn't too much to expect that the evil warrior might find a way out of it regardless, but he did profess to have some... if very, very, slight, sense of honor and respect. He respected Greywulf... and that was what would keep him loyal, oath or no. Would forcing him to swear the geas increase that respect? Decrease it? _Hell with it. I'm making a choice right now._

He turned and walked back with Minsc toward the others, looking at the ardent disapproval on their faces. "All right, Sarevok. I'm satisfied… and there's no need for an oath. Join us and we'll go." If the others, sans Minsc, could shoot lasers from their eyes, Greywulf knew that he'd be little more than a crisped pile of ashes... but to his great surprise, none of the others spoke, or interjected, or tried to stop him, and so he quickly focused on Sarevok again, trying not to show weakness.

Sarevok, on the other hand, actually looked a shade doubtful, frowning as he spoke. "You… will not require an oath? An odd choice, brother. I would have required it of you, had I even let you live after telling me what you knew." _Not helping my case, Sarevok. _"As you wish, then…let us attend to your challenge and then proceed to your destiny."

"You'll need armor and weapons too." Greywulf continued, ignoring the gut feelings that screamed at him the wrongness of it all. "Minsc, in the Bag of Holding... give him the Red Dragon Scale and the Sword of Chaos."

Sarevok's eyes flashed as Minsc unloaded the two items from the extra-dimensional container they'd acquired while investigating the Planar Sphere in Athkatla. The mighty armor forged from the scales of the red wyrm Firkraag, alongside the two-handed sword they had taken from Sarevok's corpse the first time they had fought.

"You kept my old blade; a trophy of our battle, I assume? I never thought to see this sword again." Sarevok said slowly, gripping the weapon's handle tightly, his eyes sweeping up and down the length of the weapon. "Most intriguing… as is the armor. Thank you."

Greywulf glanced to speak to the others, but sighed to find Imoen, Aerie and Jaheira already waiting by the open stairway. They had endured enough in simply resurrecting the man, much less seeing him don the armor their old comrade Keldorn had so recently worn. He sighed, fixing his gaze on the ground as Sarevok stripped off the bladed armor he had worn for so long, changing into... something. Just what, he had no idea, and was half-sure he didn't want to find out. Why couldn't the others understand that he hated this just as much as them?

"My blade is at your command, brother." Sarevok's voice turned him back to the man, grinning darkly as he approached, dressed in crimson and holding the Blade of Chaos with both hands. "Let us proceed... and pity the fools that stand in our way."

X X X X X X

Balthazar remained still, silent and unmoving as he sat around the table with two others, the fourth of their number occupied with battles of his own. He supposed it would have been possible to open a portal to include the fire giant in this discussion, but he doubted Yaga-Shura would have cared. The mammoth Bhaalspawn thought little of their plots and plans, especially considering his own advantage of invulnerability, such as it was. It was a crude way to communicate, anyway. He slowly opened his eyes, as though coming from deep meditation and thought. He had confirmed it... there was no denying the images, the events he had seen and felt. He had warned her, after all.

"It is as we sensed… Illasera is dead. Gorion's ward defeated her."

"Perhaps she should not have been sent in the first place. Another might have suited a Bhaalspawn of his power better." a deep, throaty growl issued from the speaker's voice as Abazigal ran a rough hand across his chin, his long nails scraping flecks of scale and skin from his features.

"The giant would have been too conspicuous. Illasera was our best option, and we all knew it." Sendai said with unhidden revulsion. "We will not underestimate his power again, and he cannot hide in the elven lands forever. Every day that passes is another that we grow stronger- my armies are well equipped to hunt him down even now. The elves are not capable of fighting another war so soon. If I were to let my spiders and duergar forces loose upon the surface, he would be dead within the week."

"And you would have brought the wrath of every nation that fears your kind, that is to say, all of them, down upon your head." Balthazar cut her off, shaking his head calmly. "No... your armies are best suited for tactical strikes, not extended forays. And in the end, Gorion's ward will come to us. He knows he is hunted, and if his actions regarding Sarevok Anchev and Jon Irenicus are anything to go by, he will not simply hide. He will seek us out, and we will have our opportunity."

"Hmph." Sendai leaned back, flicking her white hair from her features to reveal the cruel, hard beauty beneath. "A pity we could not recruit Sarevok Anchev when he yet lived. He would have made a powerful ally. He had the ambition, the charisma..."

"Bah! He would have had the treachery, the gall to betray us as well!" Abazigal laughed, his stringy black hair a tangle behind him. He leaned forward, eyelids flicking open and closed as the reptilian shard of pupil within flickered blue. "He desired all power for himself... it would not have been long before he attempted to kill us all. He had begun such a quest when Gorion's ward killed him in the first place."

"It does not matter now." Balthazar raised his voice, overpowering the feud that was undoubtedly about to break out between the half-dragon and the drow once again. By the gods, if he wasn't around, the Five should have disintegrated long ago. Ironic, really. Balthazar glared until the two were silent, merely shooting daggers of hatred at one another. "This discussion is pointless… Yaga Shura will destroy Saradush, and once he has done so, we will send him after Greywulf and Imoen. He cannot fail."

X X X X X X

_ A short, somewhat balding and overweight man stood before them, dressed in the clothes of a simple merchant, garb that would be seen daily and blend perfectly with anyone in the streets of Trademeet or Athkatla. His eyes were glassy, almost despondent as they approached him warily, still unsure of the reasoning behind what was surely another test. Sarevok's blade was almost within striking distance before he seemed to notice them, his head cocking upwards to look upon them all. His eyes never seemed to focus upon any of them, but in one instant it was clear he saw everything. A frown crossed his features, and he spoke, "You're… you're one of us. You're one of the Bhaalspawn, aren't you?"_

_"I am." Greywulf said warily._

An over-eager kobold leapt at Sarevok, barking wildly as it waved its dagger. Its head was gone before the creature got halfway there. A roar of madness erupted as the horde closed in on them, Aerie, Imoen and Greywulf all lashing out with spells of arcane design, fireballs and lightning bolts jumping out amidst the group.

_The man seemed to notice and gave what in other circumstances would have been a kind, placating smile; here it merely added to the overall intensity of the situation. "Oh, but you… you needn't worry about me. I'm dead. I'm a nobody… my name was Gavid… I think. I grew up in a small farming village…I didn't even know what I was until they came for me. But I knew I was different. You can hear the screams at night, can't you? You can feel the blood of the murdered, how it flows all around you…a thousand different pains and you're nothing but a solitary echo. But it's not terrible. It's inviting. It calls to you. And if you give into it, if you offer your entire heart up to it, everything becomes crystal clear. One murder, two, a thousand…it all becomes part of you. I murdered three of the local girls until I was…driven out. And then I went to the city. Murder was easier there, and I felt the call every night, screaming at me until I sated it. It took more and more each night before the voice would be still. You can taste life, you know…and it is divine. I can feel the same in you…"_

_"No." Greywulf choked out, the murderous account driving righteous indignation up within him… alongside fear of becoming the same. "I'm nothing like you."_

Jaheira's spear flashed three times in lightning fast succession, each one claimed the life of an approaching orc. The third one stayed on his feet for a brief second after she had pulled the spear out; a reverse thrust with the shaft sent him sprawling backwards, his body disappearing with death. Still, a drow warrior and a Sahaugin guard rose quickly to attack from that avenue, leaving her no time to relax. Minsc was doing something they had seen only a few times: showing restraint. Rather than wading out into battle like the berserker he prided himself upon being, his strikes with the Vorpal Sword were swift and deliberate, wasting no energy or time in his lethal efficiency. Two close kobolds found their end in one sweep, the gnoll right behind them taken by surprise at the speed in which Minsc brought the sword back high and forward, blocking the halberd strike to parry and riposte into its chest.

_Gavid seemed to study Greywulf, gazing at him up and down as though taking his measure. He continued as if Greywulf had said nothing. "You resist it, don't you? Why would you do that? Why would you deny your true nature? I can feel you've murdered many, and yet you resist all the good that we alone, the Bhaalspawn, can appreciate. After all…the only thing you need to fear…is retribution."_

Sarevok was the paragon of wrath. Somehow he managed to stay close to the group, but his fury was hardly restrained, as was his bloodlust. The skillful sword work they had fought against so often was just as powerful as before, and it was scarce seconds into the battle before those around the Deathbringer kept a respectable distance from his wrath.

"Why do you hesitate?!" Sarevok bellowed, raising one arm to call them in. "Come forward and feel my unholy wrath!!"

"Don't agitate the wildlife." Greywulf tossed behind him as he swung his staff into the side of a charging wolfwere, seconds before the claws reached his throat. It impacted with an eruption of lightning and fire, blasting chunks of flesh and bone from the creature, enough to overwhelm its regenerative abilities and turn it to dust.

_"Retribution?" Greywulf asked, the word echoing far too harshly in this cavern, in this chamber of testing. "What do you mean...?"_

_"For each soul you've killed, for each person you've murdered... did you think there would never be consequences?" Gavid asked, looking surprised at the question. "Did you never imagine how the powers of every enemy you've slain might join together and seek vengeance for what you've done? If not here... then in the afterlife?"_

Despite the horrendous odds, the numbers of their foes were beginning to thin- it afforded the six defenders more room to maneuver, and released both Minsc and Sarevok to seek out their foes rather than awaiting their charge. Minsc barreled forward, whirling and spinning as he cut through body after body, shrugging off or ignoring the hits that struck his plate mail. As he made a mighty sweep to the left, decapitating another of their enemies, his blade came to a screeching halt, clanging loudly against another sword. He whirled to see Sarevok's blade at his, the dark warrior's eyes narrowed as he saw what had also stopped his attack. Their quick eye-lock did not last long as another group of men came up to fight, drawing both their attention.

_"Can you face them all? Can you look into their eyes and deny the pound of flesh that each murdered soul would take from you when the accounts are balanced?" Gavid questioned, before relaxing with a faint smile. "I could not. Perhaps you can. Here... balance your accounts. Pay your pound of flesh."_

Vines tangled and wrapped about their remaining foes, dropping their guards and rendering them helpless to the cold efficiency of the druid who had summoned them. Two summoned wolves were at her side, growling and biting at anything threatening her, keeping most of the smaller foes at bay while she dealt with the larger threats. Their jaws claimed another kobold as she struggled against a gnoll, the beast having pinned her spear with its halberd. Even as she tried to pull free, a gleaming blade swung into view, cutting the last gnoll down easily. She glared at Sarevok, eyes still full of anger as he exchanged the cold look, stepping away as she unsummoned her protectors, the battle finally complete.

Though nobody would ever admit it, Greywulf thought to himself as he leaned over, inhaling deeply, Sarevok had fought well… better than he could have hoped. From a purely practical standpoint, Sarevok was the most talented fighter their group had ever held, rivaling Minsc with ease. From a trust standpoint… that was still another matter.

The merchant Bhaalspawn Gavid formed once more, an oddly curious look on his face. As he appeared, the room around them changed, growing lighter and less rocky, the dark taint and feeling that was present everywhere seemingly lessened. Disturbingly enough, Gavid was different this time around. Most notably was a large red stain over the front of his chest, the shirt jagged from a large sword gash that ran underneath, deep into his flesh and bone. If he felt pain from the wound, he did not show it. He simply spoke once more, "So… you survived retribution. I didn't. But then, you know how to kill a lot better than I did. Strange thing is, the longer you survive, the more blood you have on your hands. And there's never an end to the retribution."

He turned away, beginning to fade into nothingness before stopping one last time and whispering, "Or is there?"


	6. Part 1: Out of the Frying Pan

_Author's Note: Haven't said it yet for this story, but once more, I own nothing except for Greywulf. By the by, I honestly have no idea where this is going to go, so hopefully it's someplace that you readers like! That being said, thanks for reading! Reviews are, as always, welcome! _

A greenish glow encompassed the whole of the area- a shrill cry of some demonic creature echoed overhead as the unknown beast soared past the rocky platform that had composed their campsite for the night... or day, depending on how they saw it. It wasn't as though there was a sun to go by, or stars to light the night sky. This plane seemed to have no sense of the passage of time, and so the group had decided that at least one night of rest before heading into what was, for all intents and purposes, the destiny of the Bhaalspawn, might be a good plan.

Not that they really felt at ease here. It could not be so, with the unnatural cries and the unholy sights that surrounded them. Despite Sarevok's assurances that it would be unnecessary, they had insisted on posting guards, and had, unsurprisingly, posted another of their party to keep watch along with Sarevok. Minsc had been the one to do so- but between one and a half hours of silence between the two and completely uninteresting guard duty, the ranger had slipped into unconsciousness, and had left Sarevok the sole guardian of the camp for the night.

Foolish... he glared down at their sleeping forms, knowing that in less than ten seconds, he could have killed every one of them and avenged his own death twice over. Why he had not- well, that was more complicated, really. Rather than dwelling on it, he flexed his muscles instead, testing his right shoulder, which had taken a glancing blow from a gnoll halberd in battle. The Red Dragon Scale had proven up to the task and kept it from being anything more than a small bruise, but small injuries led so easily to larger ones, and he wasn't one to take such things lightly. It had been invigorating, that first taste of combat after returning to the land of mortals. Invigorating enough to make this rest a mere formality, a scant break that did nothing for him, only delayed the passage of time until his next fight, until the next time when he could do what he was born to do. Rather... what he had been born to do before Greywulf had stolen his portion of the taint. He glanced at the sleeping form of his brother, grimacing as anger flashed within him, his fist clenching tightly around the hilt of the Sword of Chaos.

He'd been honest with Greywulf when trying to persuade the man to bring him back, and he had meant what he said about Greywulf. Fighting the mage was not a prospect he ever desired to face again, but that didn't mean he had to like him. Losing one's life at the hands of the same man twice made for some harsh feelings, and it was clear that Greywulf had not forgiven Sarevok for what he had done either. Liking the sorcerer? Never. Respecting him? Definitely. Greywulf wasn't the most powerful being in the Realms, and there were plenty of other Bhaalspawn that were far more ambitious, far more willing to embrace the murderous nature of their taint than Greywulf. Most of them would have gladly accepted Sarevok's guidance, his sword had he offered it to them in exchange for a resurrection.

Why choose Greywulf, his arch-rival? Why choose the one who battled his taint at every turn, who pushed to find a different path, a weaker path, one that would give up everything Sarevok desired? Well... for all those reasons and more. Those who blindly followed their lust for power were little more than beasts, savages with power undeserved. Sarevok had refused to let the taint master him- he had mastered it, and in a manner of speaking, Greywulf had as well. Perhaps even more than Sarevok, considering that he had learned to unleash the Slayer upon the world at a whim. That... that was power. That was power with a will and a mind to use it. Greywulf's mastery of the taint was different, certainly. It was one borne of fear, one that did its utmost to keep the beast suppressed, to keep it caged. But to do that... Greywulf had to be intimately familiar, so well-acquainted with it that he could anticipate its methods, its ways.

Others gloried in the power and knew only the raw energy it provided. Both he and Greywulf knew the razor fine edge it could add to your own skill when called upon. They knew the darkness that could join you in a fight so easily, but more than that, knew how to use it as a delicate scalpel, rather than a blunt club. Sarevok smiled, imagining the path that he was starting. It would be a difficult road- corrupting Greywulf would be no easy task. But he was sure he could get the sorcerer to see the truth behind the taint. He could show him how wonderful and glorious that it could be. And when Greywulf had finally abandoned these foolish notions of 'morality' and let himself embrace what he had caged for so long- that was something Sarevok was looking forward to. The control and knowledge of years spent fighting the darkness combined with the full power of a Bhaalspawn embracing his true self.

Yes... a power the likes of which the Realms had not seen since the Time of Troubles. And at his right hand, sharing in the power of Bhaal, Sarevok, an enforcer with an iron rod. Perhaps not the place of power he had imagined himself in, but was it not better to stand beside the Devil than be caught in his path of Hell? And for Sarevok... putting up with this party, these idealistic, sickeningly moralistic adventurers would be Hell, at least for a time. They were capable fighters, at the least. They had to be, if they had endured the fights and battles with both him and this... Irenicus.

He could see right away that these men and women were not the same ones who had fought him in the Undercity of Baldur's Gate. Not all of them, anyway. The ranger, the druid, Imoen and Greywulf... they had been there, but two others were missing. He made a mental note of it, shifting his weight further. Perhaps the dragon scale he wore made too much noise, or perhaps she had been awake the whole time and simply thought he was making some sort of move towards the group. Regardless, before he could blink Jaheira had shot to a crouched position, her dagger drawn and inches from Sarevok's neck.

The dark warrior glanced down at the gleaming blade and chuckled quietly. "Please. If I had wanted to kill any of you I would have done it in the battle. Put the knife away before you wake your precious leader."

Jaheira did not respond, but only kept glaring, her hand slowly drawing back to sheathe her weapon. Sarevok watched her for a moment longer than snorted in derision, shaking his head. "Such hatred I feel from you... does my presence truly enrage you so? Or are you simply afraid that I might slit your throat in the middle of the night?"

"Afraid? Of you? Not hardly." Jaheira spat, refusing to let his taunts touch her.

"That, druid, is a lie." Sarevok sneered, his golden eyes like searchlights, unnerving and piercing in the darkness. "I sense fear in you... though perhaps you may be right. Perhaps it is not me, specifically, you fear."

"Your senses are wrong." she snarled, though her voice was still a low whisper. "You are a foul, unnatural thing… not alive and not yet dead. You cling to this life like a parasite, drawing from the strength Imoen has lent you. It is only a matter of time before Nature claims you once more."

"Ah... I see it now. I see the reasons. You do not fear me... you fear what I am." Sarevok smiled darkly. "What I represent. If I am alive… if I am truly restored, it means you have failed. It means you have failed in your promise to Gorion, to avenge his death. And you simply cannot handle that."

"Your words mean nothing to me." Jaheira shot back, perhaps giving her voice a bit more edge than she wanted. "I need fear nothing from a shell such as you. You will realize this one day, that despite all appearances, you are nothing."

A flicker of the emptiness, the void that had tormented him until his salvation at the hands of his siblings drove itself through his brain like a shard of white light. Sarevok's mouth twitched and he slowly, quietly, withdrew from Jaheira. He grunted, turning from her and settling in his own bedding. "Your words cut deeper than you know. If you wish to remain losing sleep over my presence, so be it."

She watched him carefully, waiting until his chest had succumbed to a slow and steady rise and fall, a heartbeat and breath that while possibly feigned, looked real enough for her to believe he had fallen asleep. Not that it made her feel any safer. Or any less irritated at Minsc for failing to keep watch. If he had decided to act against them, and she hadn't been awake- a hand brushed against hers, taking it and squeezing gently as she tried not to jump. Glancing down, she saw Greywulf's eyes open as he lay beside her, a tight smile across his face. "It's all right... you can get some rest. I've been watching him ever since Minsc fell 'asleep'."

Realization hit her- of course, Minsc would not have been lax in his guardianship of their party, especially not so soon after their induction of Sarevok into their ranks. Greywulf and he had planned this all along- "Needed to see what he might do if he thought he had free reign over the group. If he thought we were at his mercy." Greywulf murmured in a tone of voice that was hopefully low enough for Sarevok not to overhear, assuming he was listening. "Sorry I didn't mention it earlier..."

She pursed her lips as she met his eyes, and could not help but feel a bit better. It was good to know he was taking this seriously... taking this monster with them was a mistake, and one which she ardently opposed, regardless of any help or aid he might lend. Anything he offered had a price, she was sure, and not one they would be able to pay in the end. It irked her, not knowing why Greywulf would allow this to happen, and even more so that he had not forced the man to take an oath of loyalty. Not that she believed he wouldn't have found a way around it. Still-

A slight sound of fluttering in the distance perked her ears, tuning to the nearly inaudible noise. Greywulf had noticed her sudden movement, and glanced out toward where she was looking. Her right hand slid across the bedding to take hold of her spear shaft, and Greywulf caught her intentions without a word. He slid from the blankets, dressed in only a Cloak of Protection and leggings, stalking behind her as they silently began searching for something, anything that might've been threatening their campsite. Still, the area was not as large as it seemed, and after only minutes of searching, they had found nothing and reluctantly returned to the bedding to find- Greywulf's pack was gone?

The two half-elves met glances, and Jaheira pointed silently at a trail of the sorcerer's things, leading off towards the first challenge room that they had cleared mere hours ago. Together they crept towards the room, following the path of potions, clothing, and rations that would be a chore to clean up once they had solved this particular mystery. Greywulf raised a hand, halting their advance as he peered around a rocky wall, finally focusing on the object of their hunt: his pack was lying open in the middle of the room, a pair of small, olive colored, scaly legs poking out the top as a high-pitched sing-song humming emitted from within. "Dum-de-dum-de-dum…I'se looking through stuffs that ain't mine…de-dum-dum…."

Jaheira's footsteps were soft and quiet, and by the time she had reached the pack, the creature inside was just beginning to pull his head out, coming up to see her torso directly in his line of sight. It was an imp, from the looks of it, with two small horns and glittering blue eyes. His wings were short and stubby, enough to keep him off the ground as he flapped, but the entire mixture of his looks and his high-pitched squeal as he saw Jaheira's hand dart toward him, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck made for a rather comical sight.

It thrashed about for a moment, but upon seeing Greywulf, its eyes lit up and it immediately ceased all struggles, nodding energetically. "Oh! Hello!"

The half-elf studied the little fellow- imps were generally more annoying than dangerous, but there was no sense in taking unnecessary risks. He kept his staff close by as he answered, "Hello yourself. Who are you and why did you steal my pack?"

"Steal? Oh noes, I's not steal it!" the imp's eyes widened as he shook his head vigorously. "Did not want to wake the master! Decided to look through things while he slept, yes!"

"Master..." Jaheira looked at Greywulf with a hint of warning in her eyes. "You believe Greywulf to be your master."

"Mmhmm!" it giggled for a moment, then squinted his eyes. "Yep... Is you! Knows from when I riddled you's all back in maze, yes?"

"Maze..." Greywulf frowned in confusion, but Jaheira knew enough to place the reference. "The Spellhold maze. You were the imp who helped us to find Greywulf?"

"Ohh yes! That's was I! Left soon after you left. No more directors, no more funs. Returned to home in planes to seek new job- was sent to be butler again!"

"Wait... I'm lost." Greywulf frowned, rubbing his forehead. His experiences in the Spellhold Maze were not pleasant ones, and he tried to avoid thinking about them as much as possible. Worse still was the memories of his faux life that would creep to mind if he gave them a half-chance. "I'm guessing this all happened when I was trapped inside that gem world, right?"

Jaheira nodded, raising a hand for him to hold off asking questions for a moment. "But then you came here to be a butler again, you said. A butler for whom?"

"For the Master!" the imp rolled his eyes, waving his arms to encompass everything around. "I am's the little butler for the great Bhaal, oh yes... or I was. It has been some time since I have been called to serve. Master leaves, and Cespenar had to find new jobs. Like Riddle Imp. But now that master is a back, Cespenar has someone to serve!"

"Oookay. So you're a butler for Bhaal... and since I'm the one who controls this plane, that makes you my butler." Greywulf said slowly, trying to make sense of this curious little creature. "What exactly... well, what do you do here?"

"Oh, I does clean things. I goes and I collects the little things that finds their ways to the Abyss. And when my master requests, I uses the recipes to making the shiny ones for him, oh yes!" the imp nodded eagerly, blinking madly at Greywulf.

"The 'shiny ones'?"

"Yes, oh yes. Call on me you may. Use my recipes for you will I, make the shiny ones. Have not done this for some time, no…no new master have I. Cespenar gladly serve the great one! Cespenar make good butler, yes? Would you like me to make you shiny ones? I have many recipes!"

The imp glanced at Greywulf's cloak. "Eh? A shower curtain? Oh…is only a cloak. Nasty color, that. With some gold and gems, I's can make cloak better! Less tears and cuts!"

"Right…" Greywulf smiled carefully. "Jaheira, are you getting all this? Even the imps that are supposed to 'serve' me are looking for gold before they perform."

"I am not surprised by anything anymore." she snorted. "A hive of beholders could appear wearing tiaras and dresses and I would not be surprised."

"Ooh! There is a plane of beholders nears here, very close indeed!" the imp squealed. "Cautious theys are about you, master… not sure what kind of ruler you will be. I's heard them when closing down wormholes in place!"

"Can they get in here?" Greywulf asked in alarm.

"Oh no… I's find all possible entrances and close them very quick." the imp beamed. "Even if theys get through they cannot survive here for long. Yous simply call the guardians and they's go bye!"

"What guardians?" Greywulf said, his sense of ease shaken just a bit.

"Oh, all the statues! Yous think they just here for decoration?" Cespenar laughed.

"Right. Tell you what," Greywulf sighed. "You keep doing… whatever it is you do, and you warn us if there's any danger. Next time we head out and…er… come back, I'll let you look through our stuff and see what you can do with it. Right now, we're going back to sleep. Please put all my stuff back."

"Okay!" Cespenar nodded excitedly. "Master goes and sleeps, Cespenar be good servant, oh yes!"

Greywulf and Jaheira left Cespenar to his own devices, fluttering around the platform and humming quietly to himself as he worked his own little spells, letting the two reach their beds in peace. Even as they lay down, Greywulf leaned over to her and whispered, "Jaheira… look, I know this is hard. Especially with, well, you-know-who here. But we'll get through this. And as soon as I get this all settled in *my* head… you'll be the first to know."

Jaheira opened her mouth as though to object, to argue her points she had just been thinking of before… then closed her mouth, her big green eyes studying his face, tracing the fading lines of scars long since received with her finger.

"What?" he asked with a faint smile, enjoying the casual familiarity she could still inspire despite their surroundings.

"Damn. You distract far too easily. We should get some rest." she shook her head, then turned around covering up once more.

He lay there propped on one elbow for a moment, confused, then sighed with contentment and finally, everyone got the sleep they desired.

X X X X X X

The rays of the sun were bright enough to penetrate the forest canopy, but it was still mostly shaded, and for that Solaufein was unquestionably thankful. His hood was down, giving him far better field of vision than when his hood was up, shielding his eyes from the harsh daylight. He was still unused to traveling at day, but blending in with the surfacers made that something of a necessity. He had hoped that he might be able to show himself a bit more resilient to the surface surroundings, but still he found himself limited by the nature of his race. Perhaps in a few more months, years even, he would finally lose some of the disabilities that his drow heritage forced upon him while in the surface world- it would undoubtedly be at the cost of the advantages he had possessed below, but his intentions did not include returning to the Underdark anytime soon.

He continued to push his way through the branches and leaves and foliage of the Forest of Tethyr, relying upon his memory to take him back to the high city of the elves. Perhaps they would find his reappearance unwelcome, but he was never one to care overmuch for what others thought of him, and this would be no different. He had taken his leave from Queen Dianya not long after the incursion by his people, and though her home was put in danger by his presence, Dianya had never been anything more than gracious. He truly did look forward to returning to that place of quiet and meditation... but it would have to wait. The Bhaalspawn were being hunted, and whoever it was had some kind of drow support. He would warn Greywulf and his party. He would find whoever was hunting them and stop their efforts if at all possible... that much he had promised himself.

He had also promised himself that he wasn't simply doing this to see Imoen again. She was a powerful mage, a trusted ally among which he had few... and nothing more. So what if she reminded him of Phaere, before her corruption? So what if the memories of her charm and humor were a refreshing breeze to the dark nature of the remainder of his memories? He shifted his focus, something he had become very good at, and instead kept his mind on the goal of finding Suldenesselar... or at least, the general area where the elven city was located. He doubted that he would be able to find the entrance to the elven city without magical aid, but if he knew the elves... and he did know his half-kin... they would be keeping a close guard on the wood surrounding their fair city. His presence would be noticed quickly, which would hopefully lead to him gaining entrance, or at least allowing him to relay a message to his former companions.

Granted, this all assumed that they were still in Suldenesselar when he arrived. They had seemed content enough to remain in the elven city for a time, but he understood their nature. He knew the wonderlust, the drive for adventure and excitement that moved them. And if not that, he knew that the sense of responsibility they had would set them moving again at some point soon, regardless. The only question was when, and if he would be too late when he arrived.

A rustling of the wood caught his ears and he spun in place, drawing the sword he carried with both hands and planting it firmly before him, ready for anything. The foliage before him shook, and a deer bounded outward, past him without stopping. It had been moving too fast and too near to his position for a simple run through the forest- he remained locked on the position that the deer had come through, and sure enough, a wolf pounced outward only moments afterwards. It saw Solaufein and skidded to a halt, rapidly changing its course and darting away within seconds. He watched the entire proceeding with a hint of amusement, knowing that he might've just cost the wolf its lunch, then sheathed his blade and continued on his way.

X X X X X X

"Oy... look sharp. Here they come again. You'd think they'd learned by now..."

Two of the mercenaries, dressed in heavy plate and holding long swords and shields in either hand, looked down from the top of the stairway that led to the gates of Castle Santele. The contingent of guards was five strong, built like tanks, heavy, unshaven, and boorish to the point of no-return. They watched the approach of a crowd of frightened yet determined civilians approach their position for the fifth or sixth time in the past few days, led once more by the bleeding-heart, Bhaalspawn savior Mellissan herself. One of Gromnir's earliest advisiers when he'd taken over the city, it was the only reason she remained untouchable by any, despite her meddling and interference.

Despite all her pretenses at being just one of the common folk, trying to help, her garb was a dead giveaway for her noble ties and wealthy status. Dressed in fine cloths, a blue and yellow dress with auburn hair flowing down her head, her features were kind and good, even if she was far too willing to support the causes of the lost. One of the guards caught the other's gaze, and they exchanged a lecherous wink. She was pretty enough, that was for sure and for certain. What Gromnir didn't know wouldn't hurt him- and from what they'd heard as of late, her status as one of Gromnir's closest was growing more and more strained with each day. Maybe once they'd driven off these common pieces of trash, they could have a little fun with the uppity wench...

A hurtling ball of fire struck one of the towers nearby along the walls of the besieged city, breaking through the magic barriers that the sorcerers who guarded the town were trying desperately to maintain. Rock crumbled and the screams of men dying echoed through the city, but the wall remained solid. Just a false alarm... but another reminder of how much danger they were really in. How long could the city of Saradush hold against these invaders?

The burliest of the ill-tempered guards stepped to the front, spitting down toward the base of the staircase and scowling at the men and women who had braved the siege of the city, the constant bombardment of fireballs and catapults to speak with the militant leader of the town, their 'savior' and tormentor. "Clear out! This is no place for commoners- the general is far too busy to meet with anyone!"

Mellissan, her beauty striking and her tones forceful enough to demand attention while maintaining a sense of regality, raised a hand, fixing eyes with the guard who had just spoke. "These people represent the concerns of the entire town. Please, good sir, hear their case, if only for a moment."

"Our food is almost gone, our children cry out in hunger! Your master must hear our pleas." one woman cried, receiving nothing more than a growl of annoyance from the mercenaries.

"The plight of peasants is not Gromnir Il-Khan's concern. He protects your town and you have the gall to make demands of him! Stand aside, I'll not ask again!"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll all head back to your homes." a second guard added, waving his sword menacingly. "I've an itch to bathe my sword… you'll do nicely if you're not careful!"

"Threats are not the answer here… everyone stay calm and we can work together to find a solution." Mellissan said soothingly, trying to placate the rapidly heating argument.

"The army outside the city will surely kill us all!" another peasant shouted, stepping forward. "Your master cannot just turn his back on us! He promised-"

"Our orders are clear - move these peasants along or we'll move them along ourselves. They've got till the count of three, wench!" the first guard growled.

"No one do anything rash. Perhaps if we return later, when it is more convenient for Gromnir Il-Khan to see us…" Mellissan said, backing up slowly.

The two guards who had been eyeing Mellissan since her arrival began to realize that she might actually convince the peasants to leave, and where would that leave them? Neither of them had felt the touch of a woman in weeks- the lust had struck them already, and it wasn't about to be quenched by a peaceful ending. One of them descended the steps quickly and grabbed Mellissan's wrist with a sneer, the other shouting "Three!!" as he charged the peasants.

"What are you doing?!!" Mellissan shouted in shock and disbelief as the peasants who had accompanied her tried to flee, the violent intent of one soldier quickly erupting into the others, all five mercenaries descending to slaughter and destroy. "Let go of me! Stop this-"

A thunderous roar shook the very ground they stood on as three beams of white light erupted into existence, widening until they were perfect columns of magic, slowly fading away as they revealed the figures inside. Standing in the small, smoking craters that their arrivals had left, Greywulf, Imoen, and Sarevok looked around in confusion for a brief moment, trying to gather their bearings. The soldiers who had rapidly turned their attention from the unarmed civilians to the sudden arrivals by magic were much quicker to make a decision, right or wrong. "Intruders! Spies! The walls have been breached!!"

Mellissan found herself being thrown to the ground as the mercenary who had held her pushed her away, rushing the closest of the invaders with his sword, that one being the shorter girl, pink-haired and blinking wildly as though unsure of what had just happened. She turned her head just in time to see the oncoming rush of his blade- there was no way she would draw the short sword she had at her hip in time. No way she could dodge either- Imoen's eyes widened and she raised a hand, quickly speaking the trigger word to the most basic of spells. Five Magic Missiles leapt from her hand and erupted against the oncoming soldier. He had been too close- as soon as they left her hand, they followed a straight path- straight towards his uncovered head. One Magic Missile to the head would be enough to burn the skin, give a concussion. Two would blind a man. This guard, who so recently had intended to murder the fleeing civilians and rape Mellissan, had only small bits of bone, flesh, and brain matter atop his neck as he sank to the ground at Imoen's feet.

"Do not do this! These might be allies, come to help!" Mellissan shouted, trying to climb to her feet again as the other four mercenaries, enraged at the sudden death of one of their own, bore down upon them. Suffice it to say, Greywulf and Sarevok were already in motion, reflexively defending themselves, and never heard Mellissan's cries for a cessation of hostilities. The Sword of Chaos knocked two blades aside that were meant for his chest, and Greywulf's flurry of flame arrows brought the two men who had attacked him to a defensive halt, trying desperately to hold off his barrage with their rapidly melting shields. Imoen's bow sang twice, and both men who had assaulted Sarevok were on the ground, twitching with arrows lodged in their necks- Sarevok was upon the two other men, now shieldless, in no time at all. They barely had time to prepare, and neither one could bring their swords to bear in time to defend against the wrath of a Deathbringer charge.

Two heads rolled past Mellissan as she looked at the three god-children in awe and respect. In mere seconds, on reflex and instinct alone, they had killed a heavily armored, well trained group of mercenaries with the element of surprise. Children of Murder indeed...

It was only now that they had time to take stock of their situation, to see exactly where they had landed, where they had arrived... and who was not with them. "Where are the others? Jaheira! Minsc!"

"You said that portal would lead us where we needed to go." Imoen scowled as she stared down Sarevok, the warrior folding his arms with nonchalance. "What weren't you telling us?"

"You think I would draw your wrath so purposely?" Sarevok scoffed, showing no fear of the harsh stares that both siblings sent his way. "Look at who arrived- I..."

He halted his words abruptly as Mellissan approached them, a curious smile across her face. He shut his mouth quickly as he turned to face her, a growl in his throat. "Is there something you want, woman?"

"Merely to give thanks to those who rescued her life, as well as the lives of those innocents that fled." she replied easily, bowing to the three of them. "My thanks, and my greetings to all of you. Greywulf, Imoen, Sarevok. Welcome to Saradush. I regret that your first encounter in this town was so... bloody."

"How do you know who we are?" Imoen asked reluctantly, looking around the besieged town, just noticing the state of the city they found themselves in, another fireball exploding against the magical shields that covered the city. "And more importantly, is it safe to be standing out here like this?"

"For your second question... yes. Most of the time. A few bombardments slip in every now and then, but t'would be little more than horrible luck if one were to find you." Mellissan smiled. "As for your first question... I have watched the events of your lives... all three of you, for much of my adult life. Just as I have done with all the progeny of the Lord of Murder. I have seen so many of your kin slain over the past few months and years... including you, Anchev. I must admit, I am surprised to see you alive, much less traveling with those who led to your downfall."

Sarevok growled, but any words were left in his throat as he turned from Mellissan, only half-watching. Greywulf glanced at Sarevok as though to assure himself that the man wasn't going to attack her for her words, then looked back to Mellissan, arching one eyebrow in curiosity. "Our thanks for the hospitality... but you speak as though we should know you, and I don't believe that's the case. And... if you do know anything about our lives, you'll know we've seen a lot of betrayals over the years."

"I understand your fears, and I shall allay them as best I can." Mellissan said, trying to placate with her words. "I know the battles you have fought, and the price you have paid to get where you are now. You are unique among the Children of Bhaal… powerful enough to be a force to be reckoned with, and yet not consumed by the bloodlust and murderous rage that others are, most often leading to their own destruction."

The connotation of her words was enough to spur Sarevok into changing the subject. He leaned forward, his tone dark as he spoke. "Why are the Children of Bhaal of such interest to you? Surely you do not expect us to believe you are a simple historian? Your manner suggests otherwise. I warn you, if you treat us as fools you shall regret it."

"You might consider me to be a… guardian, for want of a better term." Mellissan said with a hint of pride creeping into her voice as she straightened up. "I know the prophecies of Alaundo better than most- I also know some feel that they allude to the return of Bhaal to the Realms. By taking an active interest in the fate of Bhaal's offspring - you, and those like you - I hope to prevent the Lord of Murder from returning to the Realms, in any form."

"So for all your explanations and claims, you're basically just another person meddling in the fate of Bhaalspawn like me an' Greywulf." Imoen scowled.

"Perhaps…" Mellissan admitted, "But my intentions are pure, nonetheless. I seek to prevent any more from dying in senseless violence. I do not know how you all came to be here, but I fear you are now trapped here in Saradush like the rest of us."

"Yes... but not all of us are here." Greywulf said, looking around as though the others might show up unnoticed. "Have you seen three other newcomers? A ranger, a druid and a cleric? I had thought they were with us..."

"No, but my affairs and work in the city keep me inside, away from the activities and goings-on out here most of the time." she shook her head. "You would be better served to ask the locals, perhaps at the inn or the temple. They are the two main bastions for people outside of their homes during this siege."

"Speaking of which, what exactly is going on here?" Greywulf asked, wincing as another explosion dissipated against the magical barriers. "It sounds like a war..."

"Indeed it is." Mellissan replied with a hint of bitterness. "A war of the Bhaalspawn. On one side is the fire giant Yaga-Shura, a Bhaalspawn with an army that seeks to bring this city to the ground. One the other is Gromnir Il-Khan, the general I brought to this city to defend it, and all the other god-children seeking refuge here. I had thought this place would be safe from the ravages that Yaga-Shura brought to other Bhaalspawn across the Sword Coast. I was mistaken."

"And now all the people you tried to save are in danger of being slaughtered." Sarevok said with a hint of smug satisfaction creeping into his voice. "The Road to Hell, after all..."

"Let's... try, and stay on topic." Greywulf tossed Sarevok a harsh glare before turning back to Mellissan, who to her credit, did not seem unnerved by the mammoth warrior's hostility. "I don't quite know why I'm here, to be honest... but helping to stop this slaughter seems like a good place to start. I presume you need help?"

"I had thought you'd never ask." Mellissan's face blossomed in relief. "As I said, I brought General Gromnir and his mercenaries to protect the Bhaalspawn I'd gathered. He has... he has gone mad. After killing the royal family of Saradush, he took over the castle and has since barricaded himself in the throne room. I used to be an advisor to him, even after he took power, in hopes that I could funnel his madness, his power, into something useful. He has locked me out, and I have not seen him in days."

Imoen glanced at Greywulf, "You said we were brought where you *need* to be... if not to put an end to this, than what else?"

"The actions of Gromnir and his soldiers have caused dissension within the town, and made it almost impossible for the loyal Saradush militia to defend the walls." Mellissan explained. "We must first defeat the enemy within before we can end this siege. I have tried dozens of times and failed to find a way inside the castle to confront Gromnir, but I am no warrior. Even if I were to infiltrate the castle, I would undoubtedly be killed or captured by the madman. Perhaps, should you find a way inside, you might be able to reason with him as a sibling... but I fear he is far beyond reason now. As much as it pains me to say it, you will probably have to kill Gromnir to give Saradush any hope of surviving this siege."

"I would not worry." Sarevok advised. "We are more than capable of killing anybody who opposes us, whether it be Gromnir or this Yaga-Shura."

"Then I wish you nothing but the blessings of Tymora." Mellissan jerked in alarm as another catapult tore through the shielding, taking out a nearby house and sending shards of flaming wood hurtling through the air nearby. "I... I may be difficult to find after this, Greywulf. The town suffers, and my hours are spent doing what I can for the people. If you have questions, I suggest you ask them now."

"You spoke of this Yaga-Shura... I have not heard of him, though with an army that has crossed the Sword Coast in search of Bhaalspawn, I should think I would have." Greywulf grunted, lowering his forearm after the explosion. "I have had dreams of one hunting god-spawn... perhaps he is the one I've been dreaming of?"

"You may be right." Mellissan nodded. "He is powerful... though I cannot say much more. Suffice to say that he will not rest until every child of Bhaal within these walls lies dead."

"But why?" Imoen pressed, her child-like features knit in a frown of confusion. "We got attacked just a little bit ago by this girl, telling us she hunted Bhaalspawn. Now this... what's really going on here?"

"It is not hard to understand." Sarevok grunted. "They hunt to claim Bhaal's throne, just as I did. But Imoen is correct- you are not telling us everything. What could be so great of a secret that you would risk everything you claim to hold dear?"

"I... I cannot say, and for that I am sorry." Mellissan said hesitantly, though defiance entered her voice near the end. "Until I am sure you are on my side in this matter I must keep some secrets to guarantee the safety of those I protect. If you wish to save yourself from Yaga-Shura than you will aid me. It is as simple as that."

"Fair enough." Greywulf nodded, hoping to avoid any hostilities between them and the one person they knew in this besieged town so far. "Is there somewhere we can go to get provisions and supplies?"

Mellissan chuckled bitterly and gestured to the devastation around them. "If you're looking for supplies you'll find them at work against the army outside… though we have kept a few stores open to the public. Understandably, most people will resent the presence of yet another Bhaalspawn in Saradush, but the innkeeper at the Tankard Tree is more tolerant than most, and the Temple of Waukeen will turn no one away. Those are the two last major suppliers in town, as I said before."

"And what of our foe?" Greywulf questioned. "If we are to deal with this madman, I hope you have some other plan that us storming the front gates? It might be doable, but I'd rather not risk it."

"I can offer little advice in this matter." Mellissan shrugged. "As you say, Gromnir's own mages make approaching the gates hopeless…you will have to find another way in. I just pray one exists."

"This just keeps getting better." Sarevok growled. "Do we have any time to act, or are the walls collapsing as we speak?"

"The siege could last a few days, or a few months. I can only ask you to act quickly. I'm sorry, but I have no more time to waste. I must depart. May fortune shine on your mission." Mellissan said, bowing low before hurrying off into the clouds of smoke that perpetually floated through the streets of the city. She was out of sight within minutes, leaving the three god-children alone- Greywulf turned back to Sarevok, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Now that she's gone, we need to talk. Where the hell are the others?"

"As I said before, I have no idea. It is you, after all, who lost them." Sarevok retorted. "I told you before we left through the portal that it was you who controlled the power by which we would be transported. Holding onto Imoen and I was undoubtedly easier- we are kin, and the Pocket Plane doorway made it easy for you to keep us close. You undoubtedly lost control of their destination as we transported."

The anger that Greywulf had felt, the blame he had wanted to place at Sarevok's feet... it evaporated as fear took it place. "I... I thought I felt them. Thought I was keeping them close..."

"Then perhaps they are nearby." Sarevok said with an aura of impatience in his voice. "We should leave the streets and get someplace safe. No reason to place ourselves in danger without cause. We can discuss the ins and outs of your power at a later date. Now hurry!"

Imoen nodded to Greywulf, trying to give him a comforting smile. "I'm sure they're just fine. Besides, Jaheira, Minsc, Aerie... they can take care of themselves, right?"

Her words had the intended effect; Greywulf gathered himself and nodded in agreement, the three of them stepping into the ruins of Saradush, into the smoke and the siege, unsure of what awaited them, or even where their companions had found themselves.

X X X X X X

The world strobed as magic brought them through space and time itself; it was as if being at the center of a strike of lightning, the entire ground and air around them sizzling with the acrid stench of smoke and burning. It soon became clear that it was not simply magic and smoke- looking around, they saw piles of bodies, smelled burning flesh, saw piles of rubble and instruments of war. Aerie coughed as she tried to rub the spots and smoke from her eyes, stumbling forward once as Minsc moved to her side instinctively, his sword in hand. "Greywulf? Where are we?"

"Minsc does not see the others-" the ranger grunted, turning and looking for the others. "Boo says that we are in trouble..."

As the sound of alarms and cries rung around them, Jaheira swallowed, trying to quell the rising sense of panic as dozens of soldiers surrounded them, flanked by numerous fire giants in full war plate and hefting hammers as big as the three adventurers. Looking behind her, Jaheira saw the walls of Saradush... from the outside.

"I think the hamster may be right." Jaheira murmured quietly, dropping her spear and raising her hands slowly.


	7. Part 1: Into the Fire

It was hot. That was the first thing she noticed as she regained consciousness. Not even a dry heat, but a wet, sticky burning that made her feel like she was in a jungle, or a rainforest. Her head hurt too- gods, it was like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. That combined with the humidity made a moan escape her lips as she tried to raise her head from its slumped position- she succeeded, though just barely. Jaheira blinked, her vision half-blinded by the strands of her hair that stuck to her face with the heat. She was in a brown, musty tent, tied to the stake in the middle that held it up. Aerie was tied on the opposite side of her- she could see the Avariel's body if she craned her head around as far as possible, but the effort was more than her head wanted to bear at the moment, and she ended up slumped in the same position as before, sliding to the ground with a thud.

What had happened? The last thing she remembered... transporting outside the walls of Saradush, surrounded by an army of soldiers and fire giants. They'd dropped their weapons- as outnumbered as they had been, it would have been folly to try and fight. She remembered one of the soldiers grabbing Aerie- a little rough for Minsc's tastes, and the ranger had moved to protect her. Two fire giants had moved to strike Minsc down, and she'd gone to protect him- then something had hit the back of her head and she'd dropped like a stone.

Minsc... thoughts of worry for her friend gave her a burst of new strength. She looked around the tent, but the ranger was nowhere to be found. If their captors had thought him more trouble than it was worth to keep... she swallowed, pushing away those thoughts. No. No time to think about that kind of thing. Their first priority should be finding Greywulf and the others. Assuming that something had gone wrong, and they ended up outside Saradush... perhaps the other three had ended up inside? Her heart fell as she realized just how difficult it would be for the others to find them if that was the case. For all intents and purposes, she and Aerie were on their own, or at least until they could find Minsc again. And get free of their captors. This... could be difficult.

First things first... waking Aerie up. The last thing she'd need was to get free, and then try to carry an unconscious elf out of the war camp alone. Assuming, of course, they could even find their way out. She turned her head, ignoring the pain that thudded at the back of her neck from whatever blow had rendered her unconscious. She tried to speak, but only a bare croak emerged. This heat was unbearable- she swallowed, trying again. "Aerie... Aerie, you need to-"

"Wake up? Allow me to help."

Jaheira turned back to the open flap of the tent, where a thin, lanky man dressed a wizard's robe had entered, looking down his long, crooked nose at the two women. He had a dark sneer across his face, a pair of spectacles resting at the bridge of his nose. He stepped around Jaheira, her glare never leaving him, and then knelt down beside Aerie. He took her slumped head by the chin, shaking her a bit, slapping her cheeks lightly until the elf's eyes began fluttering open.

"Huh...?"

"That's better." he stood upright, then circled around to where the two of them could see him if they craned their heads to the side. "It would not do to have one of you asleep for this. I do my best work in groups."

"Who are you...?" Aerie managed, but her voice was a bare creak. In a flash of terrible insight, Jaheira realized that it wasn't just the heat stealing the moisture from their throats. Something they'd inhaled perhaps- the bespectacled man smiled thinly, his mouth an unfriendly crease upon his stretched features. "I see you've noticed that speaking is a bit... problematic at the moment. Like a sore throat, isn't it? I've found that breathing a pinch of this dust I made keeps little witches like you from speaking those nasty incantations that could interrupt our time together."

His words made the purpose of his presence abundantly clear to Jaheira- if she had been worried before, this only served to strengthen the nagging feeling of desperation that was growing at the back of her mind. "This... this isn't necessary..."

He chuckled, taking his glasses off and wiping the lenses with a white cloth from his pocket before returning them to his face. "No... no, my dear, believe me when I say that I've done this long enough to know how it all goes. I'm sure that you... a warrior from the looks of it, could tell me plenty about battlefield tactics and the like... but when it comes to interrogation, do not presume to tell me how it should be done. Now... introductions. You may simply call me the Doctor. Yaga-Shura's pet name for me... he rather liked my glasses and it stuck. You need not tell me anything... yet. It will all come out in the end, believe me."

Aerie was growing visibly panicked- the increased struggles Jaheira could feel behind her would do nothing but exhaust her, but could she blame her? For as much experience as the Avariel had gained in the past two years with them... this would not be something that any time adventuring could prepare you for. He knelt by Jaheira, unfolding a small roll beside him, an assortment of shiny metal implements inside- he picked up one of the glinting knives, inspecting it carefully. "It's always important to keep your tools clean... take good care of them and they will take care of you. That's what I've always said..."

"I'm sure." Jaheira managed, desperately wracking her brain for something to save them- "I told you, this is not necessary- we are on the same side!"

Aerie let out a slight whimper as the Doctor came to her side, examining her features with one hand as he raised the knife to her cheek lightly. "Is that so?"

Not much time... she had to come up with something to stall him, anything to give him pause. Aerie wasn't going to be any help here- either she was too paralyzed by fear, or perhaps this was giving her flashbacks to her time in slavery back at the circus... regardless, it was on her. Jaheira felt sweat pour down her brow, her heart thudding like a drum. First rule of a convincing lie? Add some truth to the mix.

"We were transported here by magic- we were coming here because of the siege!"

"Hnh. You are rather insistent on speaking out of place, aren't you?" the Doctor frowned, standing up straight and moving back around to Jaheira, sheathing the knife, then bending down and taking hold of one of Jaheira's hands, holding her little finger firmly. "Did you know there are two hundred and six bones in a human body, give or take?"

A sharp crack echoed in the tent, and Jaheira could not suppress a scream before she bit down harshly on the yell. The Doctor smiled, continuing, "A good, clean break. Now you have two hundred and seven."

He stood, walking back around to Aerie, Jaheira trying to hold his attention before he turned his malice on the elf. Rule number two of a convincing lie? Tell the target something they can relate to. "We were... we were hunting Bhaalspawn!" Jaheira managed, half shouting as she cursed the pain running through her broken finger. "Agh... by Silvanus, leave her alone!"

The Doctor glanced at Jaheira, then turned back to Aerie. "You've been rather quiet, dear. Anything you wish to say before we begin?"

Aerie couldn't take her eyes off the implements of torture the man had unrolled before her- she was frozen. Absolutely terrified. Jaheira's eyes widened as the Doctor shrugged, grasping for a long metal knife. Third rule of a convincing lie? When in doubt, drop a name and hope for the best. "We were sent by Illasera!"

The Doctor stopped, and just like that, Jaheira felt a smile press at the edges of her lips, despite the pain, despite the fear. Found it. Final rule of a convincing lie- once you had an in, you played it for all it was worth. The Doctor relented, setting the knife back down before coming to face Jaheira again. "You know a name that only those involved in our organization should know... so either you speak the truth, or you are someone we should probably dispose of right now. I wonder which it is."

"Why would we come here if it wasn't by her order?" Jaheira hissed, trying to find the proper mixture of threat and respect to slide into her tone. Too much respect and she'd lose her chance to persuade him, too much threatening and she'd come across as hostile. "She sent us here, hunting the Bhaalspawn, just like Yaga-Shura."

"I had thought she was hunting our other target..." the Doctor murmured questioningly- he was good. Not giving away specifics, like the fact that their target was Greywulf or that it had been near Suldenesselar. She had to convince him soon, because if he was going to keep pushing, she'd run out of info to feed him sooner rather than later.

"Gorion's wards were too fast- she went after them alone and sent us to help break the siege." Jaheira insisted, her mind spinning through all the possible lies and trying to come up with the ones that seemed most plausible. The big problem was, of course, that none of them seemed all that plausible. Even if they did secure some kind of release, how would they be of any use in 'breaking the siege'? She had a sinking feeling that any time they were buying would be minimal- safety meant getting out of this war camp and finding the others.

"Hmm. You might be telling the truth. Though I, for one, cannot see how the three of you would prove any more helpful in breaking the walls of Saradush than the army that my master has assembled here." the Doctor sniffed, finally putting his implements away. "You might pass as a Black Reaver... but the elf has so little fortitude, I could not even imagine her as an adventurer. Still, I shall not be the one who defies the orders of Illasera the Quick. I will inform Yaga-Shura of your words, and if he believes you... well, we shall see, won't we? Perhaps we shall speak again."

He left the tent, and only then did Jaheira release the breath she had subconsciously been holding for the last few moments. A choked sob issued from behind her, and Jaheira craned her head around to try and see Aerie, the girl shaking her head in misery. "I'm so sorry, Jaheira... I almost got us killed, or worse... I just..."

"The circus." Jaheira said quietly, understanding immediately.

"I just... I saw those tools and I was back in the circus, back in the cage again...!" Aerie stopped, trying to calm herself, trying to shake off the fear and terror that had returned to plague her after so long. "I am truly sorry, Jaheira- I had thought I was over these fears. I... I guess I thought I was stronger than all this."

The two women sat in silence, saving their voices in the thick, hot air. It would have been bad enough without whatever the Doctor had done to keep them from casting spells; as it was, even swallowing felt like downing whiskey after their throats had been rubbed with sandpaper. "Do you think Minsc is all right?"

"You are his witch, Aerie. For as long as I have known him, he has held his charges in the highest regard. Minsc is far too stubborn to die until he knows that you are safe; he will be fine." Jaheira said, putting as much comfort in her voice as she could manage... and scarce believing a word of it.

X X X X X X

It was hot. That was the first thing he noticed as he stepped through the mighty oak doors, passing the pillars and statues of those long since passed. The Hall of Glory- those knights and paladins who had given their life for the cause they believed in with all their heart. Men and women who had fought to the end and been slain in the line of duty, those who had gone beyond simple heroism and passed into the realm of legends. A new pedestal had been placed along the path, though the statue had yet to be fully crafted- the young man could not help but smile at the thought of his old mentor, the man who would soon be immortalized in stone. In retrospect... Keldorn would have hated it.

Gods, it was hot. Perhaps the heat was a simple byproduct of the heavy plate armor he was wearing and the cloudless sky outside, or perhaps it was a feeling of uneasiness, under the scrutiny of these stone statues, each one a far greater man than he could ever hope to be. No... he had endured enough of that self-deprecation in the past. He was worthy. He was a knight... a squire, of the Radiant Heart. He had proved himself before, and he would do it once more. Anomen Delryn exhaled and raised his head as he strode down the hall, leading to the Order Council Room. It was a path few ever tread, for the Prelate and the greatest of the Order rarely shared their counsel with any of the junior members of the Order, or even those who had yet to pass beyond their thirtieth year of service.

Still, it had been the request of Sir Ryan Trawl and Prelate Wessaren that he meet them in this grand locale, and he would not disappoint. Since his demotion to squire once again, he had done a few tasks here and there, but nothing of any great import. Mostly, he had been seeking the guidance of Helm within himself, hoping to maintain the balance, the peace that would be necessary for him to ever fully grasp the tenets of the Order. Things had been going well, if slowly... but to be called by these two men could mean nothing but an assignment of the greatest import. He could see Sir Ryan Trawl in the circular room, talking with Prelate Wessaren- he could not hear what they said, but he forced himself to quell the curiosity within, to be nothing less than a paragon of obedience, of patience.

Finally reaching the Council room, he stopped in the doorway, giving a stiff military bow to the men before him. "Prelate Wessaren. Sir Ryan. I have come, as you commanded."

"Indeed. Enter, Squire Anomen... we have much to discuss."

The hard tone in the Prelate's voice was not exactly comforting- still, it was not a harsh tone, not one that boded ill for the squire's future. Or perhaps it did. He felt the urge to squirm, suppressed it, and instead took a few steps forward; seating himself only after the Prelate and Sir Trawl had done the same.

"I imagine you are eager to hear why we called you to this place." Sir Ryan, his handsome features only just beginning to show the signs of age, clasped his fingers before him, keen eyes meeting Anomen's. His forty-five years bored through his gaze, and Anomen had to force himself not to look away. "Tell us... what do you know of the citadel known as Watcher's Keep?"

The name was familiar, if part of a bit of ancient lore that Anomen had never judged as particularly important. "Only what was taught me in the lessons of the Order." he confessed after a moment of hesitation. "There were tales of an ancient battle being fought within the tower- the legends state that Helm himself intervened and ended the conflict deep within the bowels of the citadel. It has been locked and sealed by the power of Helm ever since."

"Everything you said is truth... though incomplete." Prelate Wessaren countered, leaning across the table, his steely eyes betraying the importance of what he was saying. "The Keep has been locked for millennia, yes... but it has also been guarded for millennia. A sect of warriors and priests commissioned by Helm himself, known as the Knights of the Vigil, has kept watch over the Keep ever since the Neutral god closed its doors. For over two thousand years, the Knights of the Vigil have kept the doors of Watcher's Keep secure... and now, after the Time of Troubles brought gods low and shattered bonds of magic throughout Faerun, the wards holding Watcher's Keep closed have been weakened."

"Weakened?" Anomen repeated, rubbing his beard in contemplation as he tried to process what he was hearing. "But surely, if Helm ended the conflict, there was no longer a threat inside to be worried about-"

"That is... untrue." Ryan Trawl said grimly. "We recently received a message sent by courier from the Knights of the Vigil. They have been tasked by Helm himself to restore the wards of the Keep... for if they fail, it will release the Imprisoned One."

"What... what is that?" Anomen asked, a sudden chill running down his spine. For Helm to have given a command to the knights directly... this matter must have been dire indeed. "Some kind of evil?"

"We do not know..." Sir Ryan confessed, "The Knights keep their secrets close. Well guarded, even from the rest of Helm's followers and allies. The fact that they have contacted the Order speaks to how urgent this matter truly is. From what they told us, it appears they have been unable to perform their task... and they are requesting help from us. What kind of help, what the task will entail... all of this is hidden from us. All we know is that they have requested the aid of the Order, and we are honor-bound to answer."

Prelate Wessaren studied Anomen for a moment as the squire listened to Sir Ryan. A year ago, Anomen would have stood to his feet, bursting with pride and confidence, ready and willing to take on this task for the glory of Helm... and himself, truth be told. He had been far too eager to prove himself, and had in the process nearly drummed himself straight out of the Order. Still, this man who sat before them now was... different. Altogether a new man. One who had shown himself worthy of the title 'Knight of the Order,' and yet... he had come so close to falling once again. His actions against the man who had murdered his father, Saerk Farrahd... he had toed the line, but not crossed it. If he was to prove his worth... this was the moment.

"Squire Anomen, I shall speak plain and true." Wessaren spoke up, straightening his shoulders and squaring his jaw. "This task must be completed- the will of Helm is clear in this matter. And yet... the Order is stretched thin right now. You know all too well the destruction that the Bhaalspawn are causing throughout the Realms- our knights have dispersed throughout Amn and Tethyr in an attempt to quell the violence, both incited by and against the god-children. Most of our wisest paladins and knights are gone, away in this hour. That is why we have decided that it shall be your task to aid the Knights of the Vigil."

"I, sir?" Anomen said, at once both pleased and surprised by the announcement. A task of such import, given to him? Surely this would be the chance he needed to redeem himself in the eyes of Helm and the Order...

"Yes, it shall be you who carries out the will of Helm." Wessaren nodded. "As I have said, the Order is too dispersed at the moment to send a force of the size this task deserves, but you have shown great success working with mercenaries and paid warriors in the past. We shall trust your judgment in this matter. Go, and know that Helm is watching."

"I... I shall. Thank you for this opportunity- I will not disappoint." Anomen bowed, turning on his heel and stalking out, the import of what had just happened still ringing in his mind. This was his test... there could be no doubt. It took great strength of will for him not to charge off to Watcher's Keep immediately- no, he would prepare for this. He would need others... and if not Knights of the Order, then those whom he could trust with this kind of mission. And what of this... Imprisoned One? He would have to wait for the Knights of the Vigil to provide some answers, he supposed. As for the team he was going to assemble... well, the Copper Coronet was only a half-hour away. Anomen steeled himself, clutching the shield that bore his family crest tightly as he departed the High Hall of the Radiant Heart.

_Moira... I shall make you proud of me._

X X X X X X

Distant explosions rattled the tables and bar of the tavern that Sarevok, Greywulf, and Imoen were currently seated at, nearly toppling the line of glasses planted upside down across the bar- the barman scrambled to keep them from tumbling onto the floor into a mess of glass shards that would be both unpleasant and sharp to sweep up. The beleaguered barman, his head a sweaty mess of graying hair, wiped his forehead with the rag he had been cleaning glasses with a moment ago, looking around the room nervously. "Close one, that. Any damages?"

Nobody really bothered to answer him, but apparently he took the lack of a reply as a sign that everything was all right, and he resumed his monotonous work, if looking more harried and flustered than before. All three siblings had ordered something to drink, and were quietly nursing the alcohol before resuming their hunt for both a way to enter the castle and seek out this Il-Khan... as well as finding the others of their group. Greywulf downed another portion of his ale, noting with a quiet smile the half-glances Imoen kept sending his way. He finally sighed and set his mug down, fixing gazes with her. "Something you wanted to ask me?"

"Nah... just makin sure yer all right, that's all. I mean... it's hard not knowing where the others are, especially in a time and place like this..." Imoen shrugged, brushing pink hair from her mouth before she took another drink. "So... are ya doin all right?"

"Me... well, I'm worried about the others, but that's to be expected, I should think. I'm not planning on rushing off to go assault a Harper Base alone or cleanse a Shade Lord's temple, if that's what you're implying." he smirked, arching one eyebrow above his mug as he lifted it again, nodding to the barman for another drink. "I like to think I've grown up a bit since then."

"Just checking." Imoen chuckled, wiping foam from her upper lip. "And it wasn't all that long ago, ya know. Six months, maybe."

"Yeah, well... you and I both know that this life has a way of making you grow up faster than you'd like." he replied quietly, handing off his empty glass as he sipped his new one. "Well, for most of us, anyway."

"Now would you really have me any other way?" Imoen mock pouted, folding her arms as she sat on the barstool, sticking her upper lip out. "You'd be bored to tears if I ever stopped bein' lovable ol me!"

"Bored to tears, ecstatically happy... same difference." Greywulf shrugged, before glancing down and realizing that his new drink was no longer before him. Imoen was busily downing half of it by the time he looked up and saw where it had landed- she giggled and hiccupped once before sliding it back to him. "Careful Im... now's definitely not the time to be getting sloshed."

"Says Mr. Lightweight over there." Imoen smirked, cracking her neck back and forth. "Yer just sore cause you know I can drink you under the table anytime."

Greywulf didn't bother to dignify her comment with an answer, simply choosing to finish his drink, avoiding eye contact with her until his ale was gone. Besides... she was right.

Sarevok only half-heard anything that the two beside him had said- it was all childish, unnecessary banter, nothing of any importance. He had been busy doing his utmost to find someone, anyone, in the room who looked like they might have the slightest bit of usefulness to their quest. Most of them looked like simple peasants, caught between two armies, the wrong place at the wrong time. Others may have been Bhaalspawn... but if so, then the taint of Bhaal ran thin through their veins. Mayhap a wizard in the far corner, perhaps an avenue to explore- city guards harassing one of the waitresses, they might know a way in. Not much else...

"I'd ask if you're ready to get moving, but you seem to be one step ahead." Greywulf's voice cut evenly into his concentration, and he glanced beside him, only grunting in reply to the wizard's query. Greywulf took his apparent attention as a sign to get started, then lowered his voice so that their words would only be heard between the three of them. "We don't know just how bad this siege has become, so our best chance is to split up. Imoen, you purchase the supplies we'll need at the Temple across the street. Sarevok and I will see about finding the leader of the city's defenses and see if we can't get a clearer timetable to work with."

"A waste of time." Sarevok retorted, glaring at the room behind them. "Given a day of searching and we could be within the castle. If you wish to remain so that we might locate your erstwhile companions, simply say so."

Greywulf met Sarevok's harsh reply with a cutting tone of his own. "Very well- I don't deny that the longer we stick around the city, the greater chance we have of running across the others. But as for finding the city's defenses, I'd hardly call survival a waste of time. If the walls go down while we're still here-"

"Then we can simply teleport away, much as we teleported in." Sarevok commented, finishing the last of his drink as the other two siblings exchanged curious glances, turning back to him.

"What are you talking about?" Greywulf frowned.

"Heh... for all your power, you do not yet grasp the full extent of your taint." Sarevok chuckled. "You had the power to create the Pocket Plane we met in, did you not? Perhaps it was subconscious, but it was yours just as well. Do you not realize that you have the power to form it once more? Or rather, to bring us there at your will?"

"You're saying I can bring us to the Pocket Plane anytime I wish?" Greywulf said cautiously.

"Why didn't you bring this up when we were talking with Mellissan?" Imoen shot at him. "We could have used it to transport these people out, away from the siege-"

"And given away any advantage we had over this Mellissan woman." Sarevok retorted. "You are far too trusting… you give much in exchange for little. We do not know anything of this woman except that which she has told us… it would be wise to keep some things secret from her, as she has done with us. Sometimes I wonder just how you survived so long without one such as I in your midst."

Greywulf ignored the taunt, but considered the rest of Sarevok's words… they were true enough, really. Perhaps inspired by constant paranoia on the dark warrior's part, but still worth taking into account. "You're right. But if we had to transport the people out-"

"It would take weeks. Maybe longer." Sarevok shook his head. "The strain of holding each person becomes greater with each person you transport. We have seen the consequences of not holding onto those with you, as shown by the disappearance of your comrades. You said that you felt them arrive in this plane of reality, near our location... but are you willing to take that chance again, bringing them into a plane of reality formed in the essence of Murder? You must be doubly careful the next time we return, assuming we find the other three of your companions."

Again, his words rang true- the prospect of accidentally dropping civilians into a realm of eye tyrants or Balors was somewhat... unappealing. That, of course, left them in the same position they started in. "Fair enough- we'll see what we can find here, then we'll look for the leader of the city's defense. Im, why don't you go ahead and start gathering supplies? Meet us back here in three hours- that should be enough for you to get what we need, maybe do a little reconnaissance if you get the chance."

She nodded, hopping off the bar stool and heading for the door, leaving a few gold pieces on the bar as payment for her drink. Greywulf watched the coins jingle on the bar before settling, chuckling to himself. "I'm surprised she didn't just leave me with the bill-" he stopped abruptly, noting the purse that the barman used to wear on his belt was missing. Underneath his belly, the man had yet to notice, but for some reason Greywulf didn't feel inclined to wait until then. "Well then. Shall we?"

Sarevok pushed off the bar and stalked directly towards the soldiers, still groping and pawing at the young waitress, revulsion and fear across her pretty features. Gromnir's men had free reign, and if they took their drunken attempts too far, there was little she could do to protect herself besides run. One of the men laughed again, reaching out for her skirt- Sarevok's hand gripped his in a vise of iron, the soldier yelping in pain as he looked up, his blurred eyes suddenly clearing to see the glowing yellow eyes of a Deathbringer. "You are one of Gromnir's men." It was a statement, not a question. "Tell me... how would you enter the castle where the general hides?"

"Oy...! Let me go-" the soldier cried out, trying to pull away but failing miserably. The other soldiers clustered around the table pushed themselves to their feet, but Greywulf raised his quarterstaff in warning, giving them just a brief moment's pause. "Jus' two of them! Who d'you think you are?! Gromnir owns this town- we'll cut-"

His drunken threats were cut off as Sarevok crushed the man's hand, throwing him to the ground as he drew the Sword of Chaos, planting his feet with the sword at guard. "I will not ask again, fools."

"Sarevok... if we want to get anything out of them-" Greywulf began, clenching his teeth as the three soldiers who had been around the table charged, their own weapons drawn and ready to strike them down. The cries of the barman for them to stop were faint echoes, lost in the sound of screams as Sarevok's blade rammed into the first man's stomach, impaling him in a spray of blood. Greywulf's quarterstaff blocked the downstrike of the second, a burst of magic missiles sending the third to the ground, a smoking hole in his breastplate as he groaned, barely conscious. Sarevok shoved his opponent off the sword, sending the corpse flying into the man still standing. He stumbled over the body of his comrade, and was in no position to stop Sarevok's backhand swing from taking his head off.

Sarevok smiled as he surveyed the scene- Greywulf grabbed him harshly and pulled him in so their eyes met. The sorcerer hissed, "Next time, if we want to question someone, we should think about leaving them alive!!"

"I only killed two of them." Sarevok retorted, pushing Greywulf's hands away easily. "They were drunkards- we would've gained nothing from them in the end. We must show the residents of this city that they have more to fear from us than Gromnir- only then will they betray this madman."

"There are other, better ways to persuade people!" the sorcerer growled, the rest of the bar desperately trying to avoid any sort of eye contact with the two men. The man whose hand Sarevok had broken was beginning to stir again, but he dared not move or speak while they remained less than an arm's length away.

"Words are nothing without actions to back them." Sarevok replied stonily. "These soldiers will know what we are capable of now. Next time, when we encounter those who might actually be of some use, they will think of this. They will remember what we have done in the past, and they will cooperate. If not, then they will meet the same fate."

Greywulf grit his teeth, his anger rising quickly. The worst part about trying to argue with this man was that his words, his arguments... they all made sense, from a certain point of view. A bloodthirsty, unfeeling point of view, but a valid point of view nonetheless. Greywulf leaned in, steeling his voice. "You want to be a part of this? Fine. But we do it my way from here on out. Got it?"

"And what might that entail?" Sarevok folded his arms, a hint of amusement across his face. "Should we have talked with them? Negotiated?"

"Maybe..." Greywulf tossed back with only a hint of hesitation- he leaned down to the man with the broken hand by the table, pulling him up. "We'll be back. You tell all your little soldier buddies that until we get the information we're looking for, you can expect more of this kind of thing. And I don't know how long I can keep that guy behind me under control. Am I clear?"

Sarevok came to Greywulf's side with a vengeful smile, pulling the wide-eyed soldier from the sorcerer's grasp, taking him to the tavern door. Greywulf inhaled sharply, sure that Sarevok was about to ignore his words- no. He simply pulled the man close, said some things that Greywulf couldn't hear, then growled and pushed the man to the floor. The soldier veritably scrambled to get out, out the door in the blink of an eye.

The bar was slowly regaining the dull murmur that comprised the background to nearly every tavern along the Sword Coast, and Greywulf couldn't help but feel the slightest bit curious as Sarevok returned. "What exactly did you say to him?"

"Do you really want me to tell you?"

It took less than a half a second for Greywulf to decide.


	8. Part 1: From the Outside Looking In

It was a common misconception, to his mind at least, that work and pleasure should remain separate. Actually, he felt it made very little sense at all. Why? If one enjoyed what they did, then what was the point of trying to hide it? No... the hard part was really finding a job one enjoyed whole-heartedly. Too many people found themselves trapped in a boring, hum-drum job that served no purpose than to fill the days and nights between birth and the grave. Just a monotonous activity that would never touch the lives of anyone else. Far better to find a role that not only brought a man pleasure and satisfaction, but one that would make a mark on the world, long after he had crumbled to dust.

That was why, the Doctor reflected as he gathered his tools and prepared for his session with the third of the new arrivals, his job was perfect for him. Perhaps it wasn't the most overt of tasks, and surely he would never be remembered as the conquering chieftain or the god-in-the-making that Yaga-Shura was sure to be, but in the end, it was his delicate touch that provided the fire giant with so many of the opportunities he had gained for conquest. And as he had stated- he enjoyed his work. Perhaps that thought made others think less of him- that he was a twisted monster who took pleasure in the pain of others. That wasn't *quite* accurate. It wasn't so much that he enjoyed watching other people suffer- it was the challenge, the thrill of the hunt, albeit a mental hunt. A game, really. His prey would hide secrets, tidbits of info deep inside their minds, and it was his job to pry those hidden corners open and find out exactly what they weren't telling him.

The Doctor slid his roll of knives and other implements into his robes and began walking toward the tent where the big man was waiting. A ranger, from the looks of him. He hadn't had much time to observe him, meaning that he would be going in blind, with no idea of what sorts of tortures might prove most effective. More challenge, he supposed with a shrug. As a rule, he felt that despite the pain he was about to incur, there was no reason for being impolite or crass. He was a gentleman, after all, and never allowed himself to use spells or magics or poisons when interrogating people. It was unfair- it had to be a test of willpower and strength. How far could he push them, breaking down their willpower without killing them? He'd yet to let one expire before they gave up everything they knew. That had led to the capture of a Bhaalspawn near the Orsraun mountains- he smiled, pushing his glasses up with one finger. Always good to see the results of his work.

He reached the tent where the ranger was being held; sliding the flap open, he stepped inside, exhaling with finality as he looked at the bound Rashemani, taking the measure of his latest challenge. The heat made the rivulets of sweat streaming down his bald head glisten, and it was obvious that the position he had been tied in was not built for comfort- but then again, what the Doctor was about to put him through could nary be called 'comfortable' by anyone. His muscles were taut, and from the number of scars his body bore along with the powerful magic of the weapons he had been carrying, it was quite possible that he was who the druid had said they were. Black Reavers, Bhaalspawn hunters in the service of Illasera. Of course, that was why they'd separated them- if their stories coincided, it might lend credence to the tale that they were all on the same side. If so, and if Yaga-Shura decided to believe them, then they'd all be released. If not... well, he looked forward to finding out exactly who they were.

After staring down the ranger for a moment, their eyes not meeting, he cleared his throat, an obvious gesture to get the attention of the man kneeling before him. "I do hope you're ready for this chat... I've already proceeded to talk to your companions, and they've proved very helpful. I trust you'll do the same... given the proper time and persuasion."

Minsc looked up at the Doctor, his eyes narrowing slightly as he, in turn, took the measure of his opponent. He did not speak- the Doctor let himself smirk a bit. Most warriors of his size and skill might boast about their own willingness to die before speaking... saving his energy, perhaps? This one could be a challenge. He was looking forward to it. Bending down to lay out his full array of tools and implements, he unrolled the parcels, showing off the glinting metal knives, the bonesaws and the twisting razors. "Anything you wish to say before we begin?"

He watched the ranger intently, looking for any sign of weakness or fear in his eyes- a tell, to see what the man feared the most of the implements that were laid out before him. Nothing- he only seemed to glance away for a moment, to the borders of the tent, before looking back at the Doctor with a... a smile? The Doctor let himself pause a moment, considering the proper response. It wasn't the tough-guy, 'I've got more than enough to handle this' kind of smirk that he'd seen and broken before. This was a knowing smile- a smile that suggested that he knew something the Doctor didn't. Well. It had been a while since he'd been given a proper challenge. He'd play along.

"Is there something that amuses you, sir? I promise you that once I have begun, you will have very little to smile about."

The ranger leaned forward, shaking his head slightly. "You will regret what you have done to Jaheira, Aerie, and Minsc. Boo is free, and he will not rest until Minsc and the others are free too!"

Boo? The Doctor filed away the name in his head for future reference, though the confident nature of the ranger's vocabulary, if slightly limited by an obviously barbaric upbringing still gave him cause to hold back before beginning his work in earnest. "Is that so? And who is this 'Boo'? Another of your group?"

"Heh... Boo is the mentor of Minsc! Wherever Minsc goes, so does Boo- he has guided Minsc's path, and he will take great vengeance on you for what you do, little man!"

A mentor... if the skill and power of the man he had bound before him was any indication, then this 'Boo' must have been very powerful to have taught the ranger. The Doctor considered this development- surely one man, no matter how powerful, no matter how strong the connection and bond between he and the ranger, would never risk trying to infiltrate the war camp to rescue him. Or would he? What if they were indeed Black Reavers, and this Boo was the one of them as well? Minsc's sideways glance earlier- the Doctor found himself checking over his shoulder out of reflex, a slight twinge of unease in his bones. He was very good at deciphering when people were lying and when they were telling the truth. As far as he could tell- Minsc was speaking pure fact. The ranger believed every word he'd said so far... he gathered himself, determined to regain control of the 'interview'. "Perhaps when your mentor arrives, I shall be given the pleasure of breaking him as well."

"Boo would never be caught by the likes of you!" Minsc growled, a feral grin crossing his features. "He has magic that he keeps hidden and is wiser than all, even Greywulf!"

That name... the ward of Gorion? The Doctor's head began to spin- this Boo must be a wizard of some kind- of course, Illasera would have wanted a magician on her side to counter the powers that the Bhaalspawn she was hunting commanded. "And what do you know of Gorion's ward?"

"Minsc will say no more." the ranger closed his mouth abruptly, shaking his head with a determined look on his face. "Boo is here, and when he frees Minsc, you will regret your evil little deeds!"

The wizard was here? The Doctor stumbled to his feet, turning around, as though expecting to see the visage of an aged wizard, ready to immolate him with lightning and fire. No... he needed time to think this over. Either this ranger was favored by Illasera, or he was far more devious than he had expected. He could not proceed further... not yet. Perhaps it would be best if Yaga-Shura spoke with these men and women himself- no. He was notoriously lax when it came to keeping up with the other members of the Five. He would not care or know if these men were telling the truth about their association with Illasera. And for that matter, he wouldn't want to bother contacting them to find out. This was the Doctor's responsibility... and his head if he screwed up. The Doctor glared heavily at the tight-lipped ranger, bending down and gathering his tools before pointing at Minsc with an air of bravado he certainly did not feel. "I shall find out the truth, of that you can be certain! And if your wizard mentor arrives, let him pray that I do not have the opportunity to question him as well!"

He left the tent, Minsc blinking once in confusion as he said to nobody in particular, "Wizard? Boo is no wizard... he is a hamster. A Miniature Giant Space Hamster. Why do people find this so difficult to understand?"

A squeak caught his attention, and Minsc grinned as Boo scurried into the tent from underneath the outside flap, quickly coming to his bonds that kept him tied down. The ropes were already frayed from constant chewing, and with just a bit more, Minsc would be able to break the ropes with brute force. Of course, what to do after he was free was another matter. His weapons were gone, as was his armor, and he didn't know where the others were. That was okay, in retrospect, considering that Minsc preferred to make up his plans as he went.

X X X X X X

The sound of another catapult launching a fireball against the weakening barrier surrounding Saradush was like thunder- its constant drum and beat was loud enough to make ignoring it or becoming accustomed to it impossible. Gods only knew how difficult it must have been for those inside the embattled city- trying to sleep with that racket, never knowing if the next impact would be the one that finally broken the wards and let a flood of bloodthirsty soldiers pouring inside.

The fire giants that manned the catapults roared with bloodlust and energy as they continued their assault, launching arrows and ballista shots, every now and then feeling the sting of the arrows that the wall defenders shot. Several dozen bodies lay rotting in the intense heat, though the number of men who guarded the wall and defended it with their lives grew smaller with each passing day. Stepping through a pool of blood and water, part of what had once been a hastily constructed moat to help protect the city, a battalion of soldiers in full helmet and armor marched toward the other side of the city walls, where a drain that led directly into the city was. The blasted gate was magically locked and warded, and every attempt to get inside using it as a passage had failed, but the army never stopped trying. Of course, from what he had heard, things might be different this time around. Whispers of help from the inside- which was why he didn't have any more time to delay. If he was to have any chance of making a difference, it had to be now. At the back of the formation, one man peered out from beneath his helmeted visor, his eyes furtive and quick as he looked for an opportunity. It had taken him almost two days to infiltrate the army and finally reach a point where he was almost positive that he would not be discovered... so long as he acted like every other soldier, of course.

There... several piles of munitions and catapult equipment were stacked off to their right, only a few seconds sprint for him- less if he weren't wearing this blasted armor. He hated wearing the stuff- necessary for blending in, but a pain in the rear for those of his chosen profession. Still, no reason to hurry if he didn't have to, he supposed. It was truly surprising how far one could get if they just blended in and acted like they knew where they were doing. Most people didn't question- those who did, well, a silver tongue didn't hurt none. As their formation passed aside the munitions dump, he abruptly broke from their march and made a straight march toward the weaponry. He could feel a few sideways glances from the rest of the men that he had been working with, but none of them bothered to ask what he was doing. Most of the grunts like him wouldn't either... they'd let the fire giants throw that authority around. Luckily, few of the mammoth humanoids spent their time overseeing the troops; they were far more interested in serving their 'god' and attempting to be the first to break down the defenses of this dying city.

As he finally got behind cover where he could plan his next move, he wondered to himself just how long the defenses of this place would continue to hold up. Surely no more than another week or so, less if whatever plan that had been concocted to break through this grate succeeded. They'd been trying to hold back this siege for too long, without any sort of relief or aid... no, Saradush had one foot in the grave and the other on the proverbial banana peel. Just a matter of time. As for the people that were inside... that was another story. He'd been one of those on hand when the three 'Black Reavers' had teleported into the war camp. And luckily for them, he'd been the first one to react when Minsc had looked like he might try defending Aerie with lethal force. A swift knock to the back of the head had created an example for the others, and they'd been taken alive. If they'd been killed, he hated to think of how Greywulf would have reacted. Surely he wasn't far away- probably inside the city, if the Bhaalspawn's past actions and penchant for getting into trouble were any indication.

Still, he'd heard the stories that Jaheira had given to the Doctor, and he knew that sooner or later, they wouldn't hold up. Either word from Illasera would finally get back to this camp, or they'd be forced to answer a question they couldn't bluff their way out of. They needed some way of getting out of this place, and he, in his magnanimous and roguishly charming manner, would attempt to provide one. In fact, the more that he thought about it, the more he knew exactly how he could not only free the captives, but get them to 'safety' at the same time. Sometimes he outdid himself, really. Sure, Linvail probably wouldn't approve, but he'd been sent there by the Shadow Master to spy and evaluate the circumstances and report back. Letting these bloodthirsty god-spawn run amuck was bad for business after all, and if anyone was capable of helping end this whole Bhaalspawn affair, it would be Imoen, Greywulf and their crew- let no man say that Gaelan Bayle didn't know how to keep an eye on the bottom line.

X X X X X X

"Jaheira...?"

"Unngh... yes Aerie?"

The distorted, pained tone to her voice did nothing but further the concern of the Avariel, craning her head behind her to try and get a look at the druid bound with her. Their interrogator hadn't been back since that first session, but neither had they been given any relief from whatever inhalant had been limiting their voices- neither had a free hand to cast any healing spells, and their captors surely weren't going to be sending in anyone soon to put a splint on Jaheira's broken finger.

"How are you holding up?"

"I have... been better." Jaheira swallowed, trying to ignore the burning in her throat, as well as the sweat pouring down her face. Of course, it wasn't too hard to do either. The intense throbbing in her finger kept her focused on that for most of the time, trying to push it from the forefront of her mind. Needed to concentrate... needed to find a way out. Patience, that's what was needed.

Aerie didn't speak again, knowing just how difficult it was for both of them to respond, and non-essential queries wouldn't help the matter. What mattered was getting them out- and Aerie was determined to find a way. She hadn't broken many bones, but there had been a few incidents during her time adventuring. She remembered just how badly it hurt, and continued to hurt until she'd received a healing spell, or some sort of splint... a flashback of her time back in Faenya-Dail, learning to use magic for the first time, came unbidden to her mind. Trying to cast her arcane spells, and losing control of one of them, crying out in pain as the diffusing energies had exploded in her hands, burning her skin and breaking two fingers.

Besides... she'd failed miserably when that 'Doctor' had been in. It was like being back in the circus all over again- afraid, unable to move, to defend herself, even to speak. She'd been ashamed, humiliated. That shame had gradually turned into resolve, and that resolve had turned into anger. She was going to get out of this camp, and she was going to get Jaheira and Minsc out with her. And with the help of Aerdrie Faenya and Baervan Wildwanderer, she was going to make their captors burn.

The sound of her friend's unhidden moans and half-hearted attempts at hiding them only served to enflame her passion to get free of this place-if they were caught trying to escape, it would damn any chances they had of getting them to believe their story about Illasera, but it would all be worth it if they could get out and locate the others. That, however, was another issue for another time. As for getting out- she struggled vigorously, but their bonds were tight and unmoving. She wished Imoen were here- the rogue would have had some escape plan, some kind of knife or pick hidden somewhere on her. She tried to think back, to remember everything that her best friend had taught her about getting out of situations like this...

Jaheira could feel Aerie's sudden influx of resistance, her attempts to get free, and if she knew the girl's caring spirit, it was out of concern for Jaheira's well being. It was an admirable, if foolish gesture. They'd be in no condition to fight if they did get out, and surely they'd caused enough of a stir arriving that they'd be recognized by anyone if they tried sneaking away. Not that their odds looked particularly good by simply sitting and waiting for some miracle to fall into their laps. She thought of the others- well, Greywulf and Imoen anyway. Sarevok could go right ahead and die for all she cared, but if the other two were driven to do something stupid- and as well as she knew them, that was a distinct possibility- well, she'd rather not have more deaths on her conscience.

The sound of armored boots crunching on the gravel and burned soil outside the tent got her attention- their tormentor, back to question them further? She steeled herself, trying to nudge Aerie with her elbow. Before the flap opened wide, the sound of another set of steps hurrying their direction reached her ears, and if she listened carefully, she could make out the barest hints of a conversation, heated as it was. "Just what does a grunt like you think you're doing with these prisoners? I assure you, if you had any intentions of satisfying your primal lusts, then do it elsewhere!"

It was the Doctor's voice- well. He was okay with torture, but not rape. That was... something, she supposed, though she decided to save her gratitude for when she had the man at the end of her spear. The other voice- somehow familiar- spoke up, "Nothing like that, aye. We'n the boys thought that what with the latest attempt at gettin' inside the walls, we might push these'uns in line first. Be a good use for 'em, eh? Better'n letting 'em sit in here and rot. S'ides, if they's who they say who they are, should be a plus for tryin to push back the-"

The Doctor's voice cut the other speaker off, ice in his tone. "And how, may I ask do you know what it is they claim to be exactly? I have been the only one to interrogate them, and have most certainly not divulged any information to the rank and file like yourself."

"Er... word gets around, eh? You know how it is- people overhear stuff, pass it along to the boys, and there ye go. Nothin sinister if that be what you're thinkin."

Silence... was the Doctor actually considering this idea? If he was, then it was a stroke of absolutely unbelievable luck, and that in itself was enough to make Jaheira suspicious. They weren't this lucky. They'd proven that in the past. No way an opportunity as golden as this was about to fall into their laps unaided. That voice, the man who was talking to the Doctor... it sounded so familiar, but by Silvanus, where had she heard it before?

"I suppose your words have merit, though I would exercise caution- the other one, the warrior... he has a mentor that may have taken offense to our treatment of them and could be on his way as we speak. Be on the lookout for this wizard."

A wizard? But that didn't make sense- Greywulf most certainly wasn't Minsc's mentor. That role belonged to the one and only- Jaheira could not help but let a smile cross her chapped and cracked lips as she heard Aerie stifle a chuckle. Somehow, someway... Minsc had done it again. Of course, if that small bit of light in the darkness was enough to make them smile, the next phrase they heard was enough to turn that candle flicker into a full eruption of flame. "Coo! I'll be gatherin these up and then the ranger, as quick as ye blink!"

_No mistaking that cockney accent anywhere- Gaelan Bayle. But why?_

Jaheira watched him slide into the tent, his face obscured by the helmet he wore, but beneath the visor she could see his glimmering eyes- and she could see the wink he tossed her way.

X X X X X X

The sorcerer resisted the urge to grind his teeth in a mixture of frustration and irritation. Once again- when the man was right, he was right. Within a few hours, Sarevok had managed to intimidate nearly every possible group or soldier that they'd crossed paths with. And he had been right- none of them seemed like they'd be interested in withholding information or even keeping company with the pair of Bhaalspawn now. It was well acknowledged that the Bhaalspawn were blamed for the siege of the city, and perhaps rightly so... but there were very few now who would try and place their anger upon this particular pair.

The fact that they were still locked outside the castle was less a matter of finding those who weren't willing to talk, and more a matter of simply not finding the people who had that knowledge to begin with. They'd been given naught but rumors and hearsay for the most part, but one solid lead had cropped up from a particularly frightened Bhaalspawn in the streets. An old dungeon sealed up that would lead under the castle, but nobody seemed to know how one would open the seals- that and the legends of an undead army lurking underneath made them hesitant to try that particular method.

Greywulf glanced at the armored mammoth beside him, wondering just how the fates had led him into this particular pairing... never in his wildest dreams had he imagined himself standing side by side with Sarevok, his archenemy for so long. What would Gorion have said, seeing him now... no. He pushed that guilt-ridden thought from his head and instead found himself looking into what was almost certainly a fight waiting to erupt. A group of the soldiers of Saradush was faced off with several heavily armed dwarves, and between the shouts and racial epithets being hurled back and forth, cries of blame for the siege were audible as well.

Sarevok snickered as he looked upon the two sides, folding his arms with satisfaction. "Heh... are these fools so eager for death that they would seek it while the army yet waits outside? If so, then they deserve the oblivion they so eagerly run towards."

"We should stop this- it won't help matters any if rioting breaks out amidst the townsfolk." Greywulf countered, trying to wave Sarevok on with him, but the big man refused to budge. "Sarevok? Didn't you hear me-"

"I heard you well enough, but you have mistaken me for someone who cares about the wellbeing of these pathetic worms." the Deathbringer smirked, his tones low and dark. "If you wish to waste your time trying to aid these fools, then I shall watch with rapt attention. I am sure that the 'better ways' you continue to prattle on about will prove effective in quenching their bloodlust."

"It doesn't always have to be about threats and bloodletting, and I'll prove it." Greywulf shot back, feeling the heat rise within him. Sarevok's goads were growing tiresome quickly, and he could only pray that they found Minsc and the others soon enough. Bad enough he had to constantly be on guard for any treachery by his sibling, he didn't need to continually worry about the fates of the rest of his adopted family. He'd professed to trust in the skills of his friends, and not adopt the foolhardy strategies that had nearly gotten him and the rest of the group killed back at the De'Arnise Keep and the rest of Athkatla, but that didn't mean he didn't worry for the lives of those he loved. For Helm's sake, he'd resurrected Jaheira and proposed to her in a plane of Hell- though that had yet to go anywhere beyond that single instance.

He pushed the thoughts of his companions from his mind and stepped out into the middle of the rapidly degenerating circle, raising a hand toward either side. "Enough! Both of you need to calm yourselves and remember that the real enemy is outside these walls! If you want to survive this siege, you should start thinking about working together!"

"Bah! Who do ye think ye are, boy?!" one of the dwarves spat, the gooey liquid landing on the tip of Greywulf's boot. "These long-legged fetchers want to blame us for their troubles, then we'll nay back away from a challenge, right laddies?!"

A chorus of affirmation rose from the other dwarves, though Greywulf's attention was taken by one of the soldiers, grabbing a fistful of Greywulf's outer robe, bringing him close to his face with a sneer. "Y'see what they're like? Scum, ground-dwelling rock heads that take and take and use our resources and contribute nothing! We're the ones keeping this town safe, and you want us to just share the supplies we need with these leeches? I don't think so! Now get out of our way, or prepare to get killed with them filthy dwarves!"

He pushed Greywulf away, the sorcerer nearly losing his balance as he stumbled back with the shove. From the looks of the blades being drawn behind and afore him, he had maybe a second or two to get out of the way before he would be caught in the middle of an all out street brawl. Greywulf realized in less than that time that no amount of diplomacy would prevent this battle from taking place, which left him with two options. Both of them meant swallowing his pride in front of Sarevok... only one meant people surviving to hopefully fight the enemy outside. Before either side could land a blow, Greywulf raised a hand and let his magic swell, flowing around him as he intoned the words to a Tenser's Transformation- as the sorcerer grew to superhuman height and strength, he grabbed the man who had shoved him and lifted him off the ground, his voice dark and booming through the street. _"I'm through asking nicely. Clear these streets now, or feel the wrath of a Bhaalspawn unleashed!"_

He threw the man onto the ground with a rather inglorious thud, the dwarves behind him already backing up slowly, fear and hesitation across their bearded faces. "Aye... we did'nae ask for trouble with one of ye Bhaalspawn. We know how quick yer tempers be..."

"The dwarves are right-" one of the soldiers nodded, quickly helping his companion back to his feet as they retreated. "We were just letting off some steam, that's all- no need for this sort of thing. Let's get out of here!"

Within moments, the entire street corner was deserted, with the exception of Greywulf and Sarevok, the former slowly shrinking back to his normal size as the latter watched with amusement, no attempt made to hide the smirk across his face. "A better path indeed, brother."

Greywulf didn't try to rebuke his darker sibling, because in reality, there was nothing to be said in rebuke. "You were right. There are times when the only thing that will get people off their asses is a threat of violence. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Sarevok arched one eyebrow and stepped forward with Greywulf to continue stalking down the path that led toward the Temple where they had set to meet Imoen. "Tell me, brother, do you not see the wisdom of my words? Has there ever been a foe, an obstacle that you could not quickly and easily resolve with the proper use of a blade?"

"Maybe not, but even you can't deny that sometimes a subtle touch is more suited to the situation." Greywulf countered, taking up the argument quickly. "Your plans for Baldur's Gate would have failed utterly if all you'd done was slaughter everyone in your path."

"Hah... perhaps you forget, but my entire plan was to slaughter everyone who got in my path!" Sarevok laughed bitterly. "The only difference was the manipulation to lead my foes into the places and paths where I was free to unleash my wrath upon them. That is what you should focus yourself on- a task which you, intentionally or not, accomplished moments ago. Those fools will stay out of your way from now on, and provide more bodies to stem the tide of the soldiers outside the gates. More bodies to be thrown in your place, weakening this Yaga-Shura's army so that he will be easier to kill in the end."

"And I suppose you'll tell me that you've never felt the slightest hint of remorse for your actions? For those who've suffered because of you?" Greywulf shot back. "I've killed hundreds, just like you. But there have been others, good, innocent people who've died because of actions I took. Because of my very existence."

"I suppose you refer to your Gorion?" Sarevok asked with a hint of disdain. "Should I care about those I scarcely knew? Those who met their ends because of actions I took? Their destiny was their own, and if they were unfortunate enough to be caught up in my wake, then so be it. I will not waste my thoughts on fools and weaklings."

"You should care." Greywulf replied evenly, allowing himself a bit of satisfaction in his next words. "If you hadn't killed Gorion, I would have never known of your existence. I never would have become what I am today. I never would have killed you, if you need me to spell that out for you."

"Your sarcasm and condescension are unnecessary." Sarevok grunted, glaring with his glowing yellow eyes. "I would have hunted down all of the Bhaalspawn eventually, making enemies of far more than you and your band of allies. Your actions in halting my plans and, indeed, even killing me were possibilities and risks that I took. My decision, nobody else's."

"I see." Greywulf paused for a moment, considering his words- was it going too far to bring her up? Maybe... but he was just incensed enough to go for the low blow anyway. "And what about Tamoko? I suppose her death was just another risk you took, hmm?"

For the first time that Greywulf had ever seen, Sarevok flinched. His fist clenched, and it was not unreasonable to believe that the Deathbringer would take offense at the casual raising of his dead lover... Greywulf's worries were relieved, if only slightly, when the man exhaled heavily and nodded to Greywulf slightly. "Hnh. An interesting move, brother. I did not foresee you bringing her into this. Were it someone else who had done this, I would rip their spine from their neck for such insolence."

"Lucky me." Greywulf muttered, as Sarevok continued.

"Tamoko... knew what I was. She knew what my goals were, and what I sought. I would have given her everything that my godhood allowed... and instead, she betrayed me. Regretful, but certainly not the life-changing event that you would believe it to have been. Aside from all this, it was not I who killed her. You and your own were the ones to end her life. Do not think I have forgotten that fact."

"Except we didn't." Greywulf countered, drawing a sharp glare from Sarevok. "She confronted us outside the Temple of Bhaal, hoping she could regain your favor by killing us. We spoke, and she saw just what kind of path you were following. She left willingly, Sarevok. Willingly deserted your cause."

Sarevok opened his mouth to reply- the ground shook and an explosion rocked the city as alarms sounded and the cries of the city's defenders rang through the air. Greywulf pushed himself off the ground, shaking his head in confusion as he looked back and forth, trying to figure out what happened. "What the hell just happened? Did something just hit us?!"

"No..." Sarevok growled, drawing the Sword of Chaos from its sheath as he began making his way toward the back city wall, where shouts and sounds of battle were beginning to echo back from. "The walls have been breached!"

"Greywulf! What's happening?!" Imoen's voice got Greywulf's attention, the sorcerer looking behind him as Imoen came darting out of the Temple of Waukeen, her bow drawn and an arrow already at the string.

"No time to explain- we might have to get out of this place quickly, so stick close!" Greywulf called behind him as he gripped his staff tightly, turning the corners of the alleys and paths that led to the back city wall. Imoen caught up to them with ease and together the three Bhaalspawn arrived, finding enemy soldiers pouring into the back of the city, stemming out of an opened drain path. The city guard of Saradush was hurrying back to prevent the city from being overrun, but those who had been there initially were quickly being overwhelmed and in moments, there would be dozens of the enemy inside the city.

Needed to thin their numbers fast, or at least give the city guard time to react- Greywulf raised a hand, uttering incantations as lightning arced from his hands and jumped from man to man, the electricity playing over the water that had soaked those entering through the drain- it hit another enemy combatant just crawling into the city, though instead of striking the man inside the armor, it was absorbed by- a pin dangling from the woman's neck? Greywulf's eyes opened wide as he recognized the face on the woman as she looked up, her face dirtied and worn, but unmistakable nonetheless.

"Jaheira?!"

Behind her crawled an abnormally large soldier, almost too big to fit through the drain tunnel, then a witch whose features were far too dirty to be that of the elven lass he'd been traveling with for so long-

"Coo! Watch where ye launch that lightning of yours, eh?" one of the soldiers who had come in ahead of the three turned and threw off his helmet, before turning to one of his fellow soldiers and plunging a sword into his belly, the betrayed man never seeing what had hit him. "Well don't just stand there, aye? Help ol' Gaelan close this little passage up!"

Greywulf barely overheard Imoen's words of disbelief, and all he could do was agree silently. "You have got to be kidding..."


	9. Part 1: A Cord of Multiple Strands

_"Don't move or say anything unless I tells ye so, got it?" _

_Gaelan's words were scarcely a whisper as he led Aerie and Jaheira through the war camp, winding their way past the twelve-foot tall humanoids that roared battle cries and continued their siege against the city of Saradush. Aerie swallowed, her face twisting in discomfort at the continued effects on her throat of whatever it was that the Doctor had used on them. So in retrospect, Gaelan really didn't have too much to worry about as far as them giving away anything. Vocally, anyway. _

_Instead, Aerie simply reflected upon how damned lucky they'd been- Gaelan Bayle, here? Didn't make any sense... he hadn't been given a chance to explain his presence yet, but she was sure looking forward to it. Not that she'd look a gift horse in the mouth. From the sound of it, it seemed like the army outside was about to launch some kind of strike on the *inside* of the city- how they were planning on breaking in was still a mystery, but Gaelan seemed to know the details. He was also apparently planning on putting them at the forefront of this attack- meaning that they'd have the best chance to get inside the city. Once in... well, they obviously couldn't let the attack continue. Again, another detail that she didn't quite understand. Still, it was better than sitting in a sweltering tent, tied up and waiting to be tortured. _

_Gaelan licked his lips, the salty taste of sweat on his tongue as he pushed toward the tent where Minsc was being held. He had to move fast- the double-cross was about to happen, and he needed the three of them to be on the scene so they could get inside before the Saradush guard closed it up. If they could even close it. He assumed they'd have some sort of backup plan in case the wards broke and the drain was ever opened, but they'd been fighting for so long, there was a distinct chance that this might be the end of things. If so... well, ol' Gaelan had done the best he could. Besides, he was already going far and beyond the orders he'd been given from Aran. _

_There- he allowed himself a smile beneath his helmet as he spotted Minsc's tent, walking over to the entrance flap and gesturing roughly at Jaheira and Aerie. "You two- get in there and untie him! He'll join ye both on the front lines! We'll see how good ye actually are!"_

_Jaheira nodded, ducking inside with Aerie close behind- only to spy an empty tent, frayed and broken ropes surrounding the tent pole where Minsc had been bound. Jaheira frowned in confusion, then whirled at the sound of a surprised gurgle. The two women broke out of the tent, spying Gaelan's struggling form being dragged by a very irritated looking ranger behind a pile of crates and munitions, out of sight. They followed as quickly as possible, Jaheira crying out hoarsely, "Minsc... let him go-"_

_"Eh?" Minsc frowned as he continued to hold Gaelan's twitching form in a head-lock, the thief slapping his arm repeatedly, trying desperately to avoid dying in the ranger's crushing grip. "Jaheira? You want Minsc to let this man go? Boo says you must speak up..."_

X X X X X X

"And that about sums it up." Gaelan sighed before knocking back the rest of the ale in his mug. His face twisted as he wiped his mouth, inhaling sharply. "Though the drinks in this place leave a bit to be desired, eh? Some Turmish whiskey would be nice, though I doubt they've had a chance to restock their larder what with the siege, heh..."

"No doubt." Greywulf remarked dryly, taking a moment to look at Jaheira's sunburned face with relief, holding her hand beneath the table that they were all seated at within the Tankard Tree. "So you'll forgive me for being so suspicious, but let's just say that our dealings with the Shadow Thieves have made us a bit... hesitant, to take anything on faith. You said you were sent here by Aran Linvail to keep an eye on the situation developing at Saradush, and that you just happened to find Minsc and the others outside, and just decided to help them out? That's a lot of happenstance for my blood."

Gaelan grinned back, his roguish features flickering in the torchlight of the tavern. "Sounds like you don't trust ol' Gaelan! Not that I blame ye... but I'm afraid there's little more for me to tell. Believe it as ye will, or not. Regardless, I did get yer comrades back inside the city, didn't I?" He reclined back in his chair, inwardly reflecting just how close to the truth Greywulf was. Of course there was more to it. While it was true that he had been sent to investigate the siege of Saradush and the Bhaalspawn behind it, and it had been sheer luck that the three adventurers had teleported in right before his eyes... well, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the Shadow Master had an interest in the doings of Greywulf and his little band of mercenaries.

There'd been a Shadow Thief tailing their movements every time they left the blasted elven city... no amount of skill or stealth could find their way past the elven wards concealing Suldenesselar. Still, they'd picked up the trail every time they left the safety of that city, and Gaelan had been the one in charge of tracking them. When they'd disappeared off the map after their battle with another Bhaalspawn in the elven grove, Gaelan had been reassigned to find him... and where better to look for Greywulf than in the midst of dozens of other Bhaalspawn? Saradush, to be precise.

"I would like to remind you that your help nearly got us got killed by the city guard." Aerie remarked- the only thing that had saved them from a panicked death at the hands of the militia was the timely intervention of Sarevok, Imoen, and Greywulf, pointing out that they had been helping push back the soldiers coming through the drain piping- and even then they'd probably have been taken for questioning if not for the subsequent battle to retake the valve, closing it again. It hadn't been easy- too many of the Saradush military had given their lives to drive their enemies back to the entrance of the valve where they could shut the grate and seal it again. If the fire giants had been small enough to fit inside the drain and take part in the battle, all would have been lost.

"It matters not. We are safe, and it is Bayle whom we have to thank for our rescue." Jaheira said, her voice still rough, but returning slowly. Her placating words were either an implicit indication of her trust in the thief- unlikely- or a simple sign that she was tired and wanted some rest. Regardless of which it was, there was little use, it seemed, in pressuring the silver-tongued rogue. Greywulf nodded in acceptance, standing from the table and offering Bayle a hand in gratitude.

"Fair enough. Looks like we owe you one, Gaelan. You ever need anything, just look us up."

The thief shook his hand firmly, and then grinned as he stood from the table as well. "Coo! And on that note, it looks like me job here's done and done. Got ye out of a tight spot, found out all there probably is to know about this bit of trouble- seems like Aran should be pleased."

"Good luck getting out of the city." Imoen snorted. "You might have just trapped yerself in here with us now."

"Never fear, good lass." Gaelan smirked. "Ol' Gaelan's yet to find the place that can hold him for too long. Though I fear I'll be doing my best work alone, so I doubt ye'll be seeing me again for a time. On that note, I'll be taking my leave! Good luck, one and all!"

Gaelan left, flicking his cloak with a flourish as he strode from the tavern, having long since abandoned his armor for more comfortable garb, more suited to his profession. Sarevok had remained silent for the whole of the conversation- his glowing eyes had tracked the thief from the bar, and only when he was gone did he turn to the others, his voice a low growl. "He plays the fool well, but not so well as to hide the truth. He was lying through his teeth. Surely you sensed it as well?"

"Of course." Greywulf remarked mildly. "He's good, but he's a Shadow Thief. Regardless of his ulterior motives, the important part is that the three of you are safe. And while I'd love to take a day to rest and get everyone back up to full strength..."

"The break-in." Sarevok nodded in approval. "Good that you recognize the danger."

"What are you talking about?" Imoen said with a frown, eliciting a snort of derision from the warrior.

"The attack through the drain, the one where your friends emerged from." he sneered. "The thief said as much- the grate was sealed from the inside. Only an inside man could have betrayed the city. There is a spy inside Saradush, and unless he is caught, the walls will fall sooner than we would like."

"You think we should investigate this?" Aerie asked with hesitation. "Do we have time for this? Just... from what you said before, we need to find a way into the castle. Have we made any progress on that front?"

"Glad you asked." Imoen said triumphantly, glaring at Sarevok with unhidden irritation at his attitude towards her. "There's a cleric at the Temple, Sister Farielle, who sounded like she might have some ideas on how to get inside, or at the very least, some information we could use. I was about to ask her when we got interrupted..."

"Okay, that's enough." Greywulf interrupted, hoping to avoid any conflicts before they started. Despite the sacrifice Imoen had made for Sarevok's rebirth, it was clear she wanted nothing to do with him- in fact, it seemed like the only one who remotely tolerated his presence was Greywulf. Why... well, that was a mystery to everyone, the sorcerer included. "You three have been through a lot, and I think we could do with a bit of rest before we start our investigations again. With the betrayal averted, it will be some time before whoever sold the city out tries again. Whoever it is will stay low for a bit- and I doubt that whatever this Farielle woman knows won't wait for a few hours. We can get some rooms, get a little rest, some food, then hit it again afterwards. Maybe not a full day's worth, but I think eight hours will do us all some good."

Sarevok frowned, his brow furrowing at the sorcerer's words. "And risk being overwhelmed by the army outside or annihilated by a catapult, simply because you wanted to take a nap? A foolish mistake, one you might not live to regret."

"It's not up for debate, Sarevok." Greywulf said, gritting his teeth. Sarevok got under his skin far too easily as of late- why couldn't this blasted man just accept orders when he gave them?

"Really? I had thought you a leader who let the dogs following him to bark their say into the decision making too." Sarevok shot back, a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.

"I happen to think it's a good idea-" Aerie began, before Greywulf raised a hand, staring Sarevok down with steel in his eyes. "I said it's *not* up for debate. Now you either get in line and stop questioning every decision I make, or you can get your sorry ass out of this group right now. Got it?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence at the table and every hand was tense, ready to draw their weapons or summon their magics if Sarevok's pride demanded a battle between siblings. After a breathless few seconds, the Deathbringer nodded in acquiescence, shrugging lightly. "Very well. As you would have it. I shall make arrangements for my own room."

He stood from the table, armor shifting loudly, then walked to the barman, leaving the others behind. Greywulf glared at his brother as he paid for his room, then disappeared up the stairs; Imoen looked back to Greywulf and grinned, thumbing in the direction Sarevok had left. "Wow... didn't think you had it in ya, Greywulf. Told him off good... maybe he'll just sulk in there for a few hours and give us some peace, huh?"

"Maybe..." Greywulf murmured, though he couldn't help but feel, from the look on Sarevok's face as he had left, that somehow, some way, his brother had scored a victory of sorts.

X X X X X X

"C'mere, it's not going to hurt that much."

"N-no, I really think I can take care of it myself, thank you..."

"Now don't be a big baby. Let me see it."

"I am not being a big baby! And I am perfectly capable of handling this myself."

"Is that why you keep holding it funny? Just give me a second with it, that's all I need-"

"Imoen, don't you dare come any closer with that thing-"

Aerie darted across the room with Imoen right behind her, holding a small threading needle in one hand with an exasperated look on her face. The Avariel turned to see Imoen tuck the needle back in a pouch where it wouldn't poke her- then proceed to vault over the bed and tackle Aerie, sending them rolling across the floor. Imoen ended up on top triumphantly, grabbing Aerie's arm with one hand and trying to hold it still while she examined her finger for the splinter she'd gotten when tied to the tentpost. Imoen squinted as she tried to hold the Avariel still, trying to locate the tiny annoyance- she yelped in surprise as a small wave of magic sent her flying onto the bed, bouncing once as Aerie scrambled to her feet, holding her afflicted hand gingerly, though her wary glare never left Imoen.

"I said I'll take care of it... I just don't like needles, that's all..."

"It's just a threading needle!" Imoen sighed in exasperation as she curled back up to a proper position, knees tucked to her chest, chin resting on her knees. "C'mon... I got splinters all the time from doing dumb stuff back in Candlekeep. I'm an expert at getting them out, honest!"

"And I believe you..." Aerie muttered, before inhaling sharply and fixing her most defiant glare at Imoen as she stood to her utmost height. "But *I* will get this out. Without your help. Thank you."

Unfortunately, the sight of Aerie's most defiant glare really did nothing more for Imoen than make her seem that much more cute, and so the moment Aerie's gaze left Imoen, the thief-mage shouted a Power Word, and Aerie found herself stuck to the ground, unable to move. Her eyes flashed up to Imoen with the look of shock- Imoen tsked as she took out her needle again and walked to Aerie's side, raising her frozen arm and extending the finger that was in pain. "Oh c'mon... if I wasn't above doing this to Greywulf in that weird Pocket Plane, didja think I wouldn't do it you here? Now, for that nasty little guy..."

Imoen stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she squinted, gently using the needle to probe and poke, trying to get the lodged shard of wood from Aerie's fingertip... Imoen winced as a tiny bead of red blossomed from the Avariel's finger, but at the tip of the needle was the offending particle. She brightened with the small victory, holding it up for Aerie to see as the spell lost effect, letting Aerie move again, immediately putting her finger in her mouth, quenching the insignificant flow of blood. "Told ya I'd get it! Now, arent'cha glad you let me help you?"

"I don't think I let you do anything..." Aerie said, glancing at her finger before folding her arms in irritation. "How Greywulf put up with you growing up I don't think I'll ever know..."

"Hehehehe...." Imoen laughed, jumping back to fall on the bed, pink strands of hair flying all over her face. She sputtered and waved her hands madly to remove the offending locks from her vision before meeting Aerie's rapidly softening gaze again. "Meh. Greywulf and me got along just fine, thank you. Except for that time when I rewrote his essay that he had to recite to Gorion and the monks... I watched from the back of the room, and as soon as he hit the spots that I'd 'revised,' his face got so red..." Imoen laughed at the memory, her chortles gradually devolving into small snorts of amusement. "Greywulf couldn't finish the essay, that much was sure... not with what I'd given him, and definitely not in front of Gorion or Val Hurst."

"What did you change it to?" Aerie asked with a hint of hesitation, half-certain she didn't want to know, but still dying to hear the rest of the story.

"Hmph." Imoen stopped, folding her arms as she lay on the bed, a sudden sense of pouting entering her tone. "I don't know if I should tell you the rest. You did throw me across the room, after all..."

Aerie's jaw nearly dropped, trying to sputter a defense. "But I- you... you froze me with a Power Word, and I told you that I didn't want any help, but you just kept on going and-"

Imoen's renewed laughs were enough to spur the flummoxed Avariel into action- a flying leap from the elf landed squarely atop Imoen, and despite the petite girl's weight, Imoen still found the strength to laugh as the two friends wrestled one another, all thoughts and worries banished from their minds for a time, however short it may have been.

X X X X X X

The sound of girlish cries and the thumping of bodies hitting the floor and walls made Greywulf smile wryly as he sat on the chair across from the bed in the room- Jaheira had departed to use the baths that the inn offered below. From her account of their experience as captives, they'd been treated rather poorly- not as bad as when Irenicus had held them, but unpleasant to be sure. Her finger was still swollen from the injury inflicted upon her by their torturer, and even after some healing by Aerie, the extremity wasn't exactly feeling great. Still, covered in soot, dust, and sweat, the druid had taken her leave for the moment to get herself resembling something human again. Or half-elf, rather.

Greywulf snorted at his own mental joke, mentally pondering whether it might be good for him too- no, joining Jaheira at the baths might be tempting, but he sincerely doubted that either of them would get much cleaning done together, and besides... he was trying to give her some distance. Perhaps he wasn't quite as keen at sensing people's emotions and thoughts as she was, but he could tell when she was uncomfortable... bothered. And lately, whenever he tried to get too close, tried to talk about their status as engaged, more specifically... she pulled back. Changed the subject. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to ask for her hand in marriage while they were hunting Irenicus in Hell, but at the time...

He sighed, unsure of what to say or do. Not that he had any business stressing over his love life right now- there was far too much that rested on their shoulders to be distracted right now... and yet, pushing all of his own worries and troubles out of his head was proving to be quite impossible. It was times like this he was both blessed and cursed by his companions... they kept him grounded, kept him tied to the things that he was fighting to hold on to... and they distracted him, kept him from putting all his effort and energy into what needed to be done. A sacrifice, but not one he would ever give up. Maybe that made him selfish. Well... screw it. He was selfish then.

Jaheira, his lover. Imoen, his sister. Sarevok... he exhaled sharply, trying to calm his emotions, still fueled from their earlier conversation. He was rapidly losing patience with the man, though he couldn't find it within himself to simply cast the man off. Why... he had no idea. The others would most certainly be fine with any decision from him to send the Deathbringer on his own way. But... but there was something compelling about his brother, something that made him hold onto him. Something inviting? Appealing?

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. There was a thought that made no sense- what could possibly appeal to Greywulf about Sarevok. He was a brute, a monster that killed without remorse, and was directly responsible, if it were to be traced back to that first time on the road, to all of the suffering Greywulf had endure over the past few years. He was worthy of nothing but spite, hatred, and death...

_**"We could kill him, you know..."**_

Greywulf's whole body jolted as he opened his mouth, blinking wildly as he looked for the source of the demonic voice he had just heard... but he knew there would be no speaker in the room. No... the speaker was inside him, and he knew just who those smooth, rapturous tones belonged to. Inviting, seductive... the taint within. The Slayer. It had been months since he had heard that voice- not since he had regained his soul. He'd thought that once he was restored, the Slayer would be suppressed again, once more firmly in check and unable to run free among the corridors of his mind. Apparently, he was mistaken... better he find out now, then later while in the midst of battle, where he might be tempted to give away control.

The sound of footsteps by the door got his attention and he stood to his feet as Jaheira entered, her hair still damp from the baths, but dressed in her leathers and tunic. She'd left her armor and weapons here- with the exception of her elven dagger, which she rarely let leave her side. Greywulf had often wondered if she slept with it under her pillow- after they'd shared a bed the first time, he'd gotten his answer. And it was a resounding yes.

"I appreciate the attention, but this is hardly a military regiment." Jaheira remarked as she walked past Greywulf, the sorcerer only now noticing that he was still standing at attention the moment she'd entered. "I still recommend a trip downstairs... at least if you intend to join me under clean sheets tonight."

"Clean? Have you looked at this room? The city is under siege, remember... keeping their sheets clean probably isn't high on their to-do list." Greywulf quipped, poking the bed with a wrinkled brow.

Jaheira rolled her eyes and poked Greywulf gently in the chest, pursing her lips. "You know what I mean. I-"

The sound of laughter and another particularly loud bump in the room over resounded loudly, and Jaheira snorted in derision. "I doubt either of them will get much rest, paired in the same room. I cannot say it surprises me, though..."

"I suppose we could try convincing one of them to sleep in... oh, I don't know... Minsc's room? He's gotten a lot better about snoring, y'know." Greywulf suggested with a shrug, but the connotations of the idea were not lost on the druid, who arched an eyebrow with a wry smile. Greywulf glared playfully, "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. Though Aerie and Minsc have shown a great deal of admiration for one another..."

She walked to the bed, sitting down and undoing the laces of her boots as she replied, "You are right. They complement each other quite well... though I doubt Minsc would ever consider acting on anything he felt for Aerie. He holds himself far too strictly as her guardian to allow anything other than that to take place. Aside from that, it would mean that someone else would be forced to room with Sarevok, and I doubt there is another amongst us with the temperament to stand his infernal goads and taunts."

"Right..." Greywulf paused a moment, then looked at Jaheira, hoping to find some kind of wisdom, some kind of answer in her features. "I don't know... I don't know why he's still here. With us, I mean. He's arrogant, rude, evil, and would kill us in a second if he thought it would provide him a better opportunity for power. And yet... I'm keeping him here with us. Why?"

"You are asking me this?" Jaheira asked incredulously, pausing as she pulled her bare foot from the boot it had been in, sitting up straight again to meet his gaze. "Are you having second thoughts about the wisdom of keeping that monster at our side? If so, I should say you are finally coming to your senses."

"I never thought it was a smart thing to do..." Greywulf defended himself quietly, "Besides... you said you'd be around to rescue me from when this blew up in my face. I happen to like strong women who can rescue me, rather than the other way around."

"Is that so?" Jaheira asked with an arched eyebrow, as she ran one hand across the bed sheets between them, coming to his body and beginning to run up his side- the dust that her fingers had riled up caused him to sneeze, ruining both the oncoming moment and any attempts at resurrecting their former conversation.

Jaheira shook her head wryly, then frowned as she followed suit, sneezing before looking at the dust billowing from the sheets."By Silvanus, this place is filthy."

"Told you." Greywulf shrugged as he fought the urge to sneeze. The dust really was quite unbearable at times. "No point in taking a bath now. I'd just get dirty again."

Jaheira stopped, eyeing him with a hint of disbelief. "Tell me you did not just make that excuse. The last time I heard those words, they came from the mouth of a six year old."

"I never claimed to be mature, either." Greywulf sniffed, folding his arms. "And besides, you prove my point. You just took a bath, and you're all dusty again. A waste of time."

He laughed as a dust-covered pillow hit his face, and before long they were both sneezing again.

X X X X X X

Finally alone, or as close to it as he would get for now. Quiet, giving his thoughts time to gather and collect... or at least, quiet without the incessant sound of the ranger's snores that ripped across the room. He was surprised the wallpaper didn't rip off from the echoes. Sarevok briefly considered killing the man, but decided against it, even though he was sure that his reasons would be upheld by anyone else forced to listen to this kind of torturous sound.

No... enough wrath. Time to put it down, put it away... he needed to be calm, to be at peace. Sarevok inhaled sharply, closed his eyes, and began meditating, drawing his own consciousness inward, blocking everything else out. It was a technique he had learned as a young man- something to block the constant urge for blood that had plagued him when he had been a Bhaalspawn. It was why so many of the god-children were nothing more than petty murderers, found out by their sins, and killed by the fearful cowards of the town or city where they plied the trade of their lineage. It was easy... too easy, to let the taint control you. To take control of the taint... now that was a talent. Something both he and Greywulf had done. Even their annoying sister had managed to take hold of her blood power... to a point. She hadn't let it into her life enough yet... she was still fighting with all her might to keep that part of her buried beneath all the sugar and charm and sweetness... but he saw what was lurking down there.

Sarevok smiled, letting the knowledge of what he had witnessed under Imoen's facade of joy and cheer when she had given up part of her soul for his rebirth. There was darkness... darkness and power. The Slayer was far closer to the surface that the girl would ever have dreamed. Still, it was not she that continued to demand his attention- it was Greywulf who he had chosen to focus his efforts upon. Greywulf who walked the knife's edge of the taint, having harnessed the power while yet remaining unbound by its demands. A state he himself had only achieved for a time... near the end of his mortal life, Sarevok had known what was happening. He knew that he had been driven mad by the power of the taint; he knew that he had lost control and given himself over to simple bloodlust, become a mindless engine of destruction in the Undercity of Baldur's Gate.

It was mistake he would never be able to correct, but it was also a mistake he could keep Greywulf from making. One of many mistakes. Like clinging to the example that Imoen was setting in her unflagging resistance to the taint. He felt a sneer cross his face, but he quickly controlled it, trying to return to the state of peace he'd need to proceed with his plans. The wrath he'd felt from Greywulf earlier... good. His goads and taunts were beginning to get to the sorcerer. He knew it would only be a matter of time. He had to show him that his way was the right way... that only by unleashing the full power of the taint, by taking control of his blood and using it could he succeed. It was a fine line, of course- push Greywulf too far, and he might actually push back. He didn't want that... well, a part of him did, but that part also wanted to burst into his brother's room right now and attempt to slaughter him without mercy. It was a portion of him he'd kept suppressed for a while, and for many reasons- not least of which was the acceptance that in a one-on-one battle between he and his brother... he wasn't sure who would be the victor. If he had his old armor with the magic-resistant runes, perhaps it might have been... no. It was pointless to dwell on old grudges... not when there was so much in the future to look forward to.

But to succeed, he had to keep up the facade. Had to convince Greywulf that his words and actions were no more than mere bitterness and anger, that he had no ulterior motives. That each time he baited him, he was simply doing it to get a rise out of his brother. Greywulf could not suspect, for now at least, that he had any more intention than to simply gain power at his side. He could not know that not only would Sarevok gain power... but it would be at Greywulf's side. The truth of course, was right in plain sight, for how could Sarevok gain the power of Bhaal without the aid of his brother? But for now... he would simply watch and play the bully, play the devil, to keep the others from looking too deep into his words. They could have no clue that Sarevok was slowly showing Greywulf why he needed the taint... why he needed to embrace it and accept it, and eventually, he would see the truth. Besides... as much as he hated to admit it, the battle of wits between them, the battle Greywulf didn't even know he was fighting, was turning into a good one. His size and his build was an advantage in more ways than one- his enemies on the battlefield were intimidated by what they saw, and made his abilities as a Deathbringer that much more effective. His enemies off the battlefield were lulled into a sense of security by what they didn't see- the keen, charismatic, clever mind that lurked beneath all that muscle and those glowing yellow eyes. He hadn't become the Duke of Baldur's Gate through strength of arms alone. He'd made back-room bargains, cut deals, and negotiated with the best of them. All in all, he was not a man to be trifled with. Not a man to be disrespected.

Perhaps that was why, in the end, he had been shaken so much by Greywulf's comment about Tamoko. Her name could still inspire both a furious rage within him... and an ache in his heart. She'd betrayed him, left him... and maybe, in the end, been part of why his brother was so close to claiming the Throne of Bhaal and not him. But for all his attempts to rid himself of the feelings he'd held for her, he could not deny that he had, with all of his heart, loved that woman. And for a time, when he had thought she was slain by Greywulf and his companions on their way to him, he'd simply filed that under another of the grievances he'd simply have to put aside if he was to gain power at his brother's side. But to hear that they hadn't killed her- that she'd simply... left. That she'd been killed by others, that her association with him was what had done her in... no. He couldn't go down this path. Sorrow led to grief. Grief led to guilt. Guilt... that led to remorse, and that was a weakness he would not, could not feel.

The Throne of Bhaal was in sight... and even if it was only by proxy, the power of Bhaal would still be his to command. If Greywulf were to truly become the new Lord of Murder... he would need enforcers, mortals to whom would be entrusted the duty of spreading the news of rebirth, given great and terrible powers to use for the glory of Bhaal-reborn. That... would be a duty he would relish.

Sarevok smiled, letting himself fade out of his meditations, to return to the world around, letting himself go once more- only to find, as he opened his eyes again, that he was staring into a pair of glinting black eyes, belonging to one hamster that was perched on the bedside table next to Minsc's sleeping form. Sarevok growled, expecting the hamster to scurry back into wherever it was that it hid during battle, but it simply remained there, its gaze unblinking and never moving from Sarevok. The Deathbringer remained fixed on the rodent... until he finally came to the realization that he was having a staring contest with Boo, and simply swore, waking Minsc up abruptly. "Eh? What is going on here, Boo?"

"Ranger! Turn your rodent's gaze another direction! I will not be scrutinized as though by some ridiculous divining rod!" he spat, the hamster finally looking away from Sarevok in favor of snuffling over to Minsc's outstretched hand.

Minsc smiled as Boo's whiskers tickled his fingers, but he turned back to Sarevok with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Boo is an uncanny judge of character, but you... you give him trouble."

The ridiculousness of the conversation was beginning to wear on Sarevok- how Greywulf put up with this man's insanity was beyond comprehension. "I shall give your rodent more than that if he continues! I nearly conquered a nation! I shall not be judged by a creature that stores nuts in its cheeks!"

If it were possible for a hamster to look miffed, Boo would seem to have taken offense to that last comment. As it was, Minsc shrugged and glanced back down at Boo. "Food storage aside, Boo controls himself much better than you do. Do you see him ranting about mere glances? Let's look."

"What?" Sarevok blinked.

"There, you see? No rant." Minsc said proudly, watching as Boo crawled onto the bed with him, crossing over to the opposite side of the pillow. "In fact, right now we see him snuffling about for a comfy place to sleep. Admirable restraint."

Sarevok inhaled sharply, watching his knuckles turn white as he clenched his fists. "I am still in Hell, aren't I? This is insanity. Do *not* speak to me again, unless spoken to."

Minsc shrugged, but a pleased look crossed his face as Sarevok lied down across his bed, trying to will himself asleep so as to escape the man's ramblings. "Ah, finally a calming look across your face. Boo's handiwork, no doubt. Doesn't that feel better?"

X X X X X X

The sun was high- not perhaps, at the peak of its path, but high enough. High enough to cast a glare over every face, illuminate every traveler that entered the city of Athkatla. High enough that it would destroy any attempt at hiding in the shadows of the city, hiding his identity from the fearful inhabitants within. High enough, however, that it would be no bother to pull his hood over his head and pretend that he simply despised the sun in his eyes- which he did, true enough- and keep his identity a secret that way. The guards at the gates of the city nary gave him a second glance- their attention was on the constant line of traders and merchants bringing their wares and out, hoping to make their fortune in the legendary City of Coin.

Solaufein slipped away from the gates, pushing his way through the crowds, hoping to get some distance from the throngs of people. The more time he spent around others, the more chance there was that he could be discovered as a drow- and as he knew from both stories and experience, a drow alone was in far more danger than with a group. At the side of Greywulf and his companions, he could walk the streets of the city unhooded, if he had truly wanted. Their reputation was more than enough to survive the whispers and glances that were sent his way. Alone, now... if he wasn't careful he could be lynched, burned at the stake. He chuckled humorlessly. A bit dramatic perhaps. Surely nothing that severe would happen.

Of course, none of this would matter if he couldn't find the men and women he was searching for. He'd met with Queen Ellesime, the elven monarch. He'd spoken with her about the group he sought, and the urgency with which his mission depended. Surprisingly, the elves did not lie to him. Said they didn't know where the group was, and that they they'd stumbled onto a battle that matched the fears Solaufein had of what was awaiting his old friends. Elhan had been the eye-witness; from his words, it sounded as though the others had simply dropped off the face of Faerun, disappeared into thin air. Impossible... well, perhaps not, but highly improbable.

He let himself breathe a sigh of relief as he found himself fully immersed into the back alleys and shadows of the Slums, away from prying eyes and teeming crowds. Here he could let himself relax a bit, let himself flow into his natural element. Far easier to remain unseen to begin with, than to flee a riot with pursuers hot on your trail. He slipped from alley to alley, always in shadow, always keeping his senses on full alert for those who might discover him. For Solaufein, it was both easier and harder- easier in that his keen elven senses allowed him an advantage over the humans, but harder to trust his eyes in the full sunlight. That glare- he tugged his hood down further, wishing for time to progress just a bit quicker and evening to fall. Not that the people he was looking for would be sticking to a steady schedule of sleep or travel depending on the time of day. For the time he had traveled with them, it hadn't mattered what time it was, only when people needed rest.

There... Solaufein grinned as he spotted the dirty back of the building he was looking for. An 'unofficial base of operations,' Greywulf had called it once: The Copper Coronet. Run by Hendak, the gladiator turned owner. If the six adventurers had returned to the city, Hendak would know. It was still mid-afternoon- actually, something of an advantage. Fewer people in the tavern then. He slipped inside, letting himself be taken by the embrace of raucous noise and drunken slurs. Smoke filling the air, old vomit staining the floor, and the smell of booze thick and permeating everything. From an outsider's perspective, it looked no different than when the old owner, Lehtinan, had run the place. But to the actual attendees, to the regulars, they knew what had changed. The smoke was just from pipeweed- no more of the illegal lotus rooms. Prostitutes with customers no longer had rooms reserved for them in the back, nor were they allowed to flaunt their services from inside the Coronet. If they wanted to ply their trade and use the Coronet's rooms for it, they paid just like everyone else, and they got their customers somewhere else. The slaving pits... that hardly needed to be mentioned. It wasn't a classy bar, and it certainly wasn't a place to bring one's mum. But Hendak ran it clean and above the table. He had the guts to take something rotten that had owned his life and turn it into something respectable. Solaufein respected him like few other surfacers.

He made his way to the bar, nodding to Bernard as he cleaned the perpetually dirty counter with his perpetually stained cloth, and greeted Hendak with a tight smile and a firm handshake. "Ah... my dark friend, it is good to see you again. It has been some time, no?"

"It has." Solaufein replied to the blonde haired, blue eyed Northman. "I'm looking for Greywulf and the others. Have they been here recently?"

"More recently than you, but not in the past few days, no." Hendak shook his head, his proud features knitting as he unfolded his broad, muscular arms and stood up straight, his impressive height outdoing that of Solaufein's. "Is there something wrong? A favor, perhaps, that you need from them?"

"Not exactly..." Solaufein murmured, glancing behind him, a habit he'd picked up since arriving on the surface. One could never be too careful, after all...

"Oy... strange that you should mention them, though." Bernard remarked, spitting on the bar and wiping it clean with his rag. Perhaps that was why both counter and rag were so dirty all the time. "You ain't the first to come in and inquire about Miss Jaheira and them others. There were another feller, one of them Radiant Heart sorts who came in just this morning. He was looking for them as well. Recognized him though... er, Ani something, I think. I'm horrible with names, so ye'll have to excuse me. Think he traveled with them for a bit after you left to... well, wherever it was ye went."

"Where is he?" Solaufein asked, his interest piqued. If this man, this knight, had seen the others after he'd left their company, perhaps he could find out just where they'd been, trace their steps up to when Elhan said they vanished by way of magic. If he knew how they got to that point... well, perhaps he'd know where they were headed.

"Ye can find the man up at the balcony floor- why I think he's looking at us right now! Oy! Got a man down here wants to talk to you, sir!"

"Ah! A man with enough strength and courage to take up the task I've set then, eh?" his excited, accented voice drifted back down to them, and Bernard looked confused for a moment, before wincing with embarrassment. " 'Fraid I forgot to fill him in on the bit you told me to mention, sir... beg yer apology."

Anomen Delryn shook his head with a sigh, wondering why, of all places, he was once again in the Copper Coronet- except that this time, he was the one seeking out mercenaries. Life had a funny way of turning around like that- whoever said the gods didn't have a sense of humor didn't know what he was talking about.


	10. Part 1: Enemy at the Gates

_Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay between chapters- I like to update once a week, but between moving and a new job, that hasn't been happening. I know this chapter is short; hopefully I'll find my stride again soon. Oh, and I don't own anything but Greywulf. Just in case you forgot._

The creak of the old brass hinges that supported the door leading into the Temple of Waukeen was somehow more audible than the constant crashing of fireballs against the increasingly strained magical shields of the city. Once pristine ceramic tiles that composed the floor were dirty, cracked and broken. Luckily, the supports were still fully intact, but every now and then when a fireball would strike particularly close, pieces of plaster and wood would shake from the roof above, adding to the mess below. A young woman, her face marred with worry lines and exhaustion beyond her years, was busying herself over the altar, murmuring her prayers when she heard the doors creak open. She stood with a sigh, turning to face the silhouettes as they entered, three men and women approaching her with nods and smiles.

"Ah... welcome to the House of Waukeen. If you need healing or medical attention, I am afraid you will have to wait for a time- I have exhausted the divine powers given to me, and desperately need some rest for my own well-being."

"Not to worry, just looking to ask some questions. You remember me, right?" Imoen beamed at the cleric, who paused a moment, then nodded with a weak smile. "I guess things picked up a bit after I left?"

"You could say that, child." Sister Farielle exhaled, gesturing toward the guest rooms, which had been empty during Imoen's first visit. Now, they were all full, occupied by a fair number of elves, tattered and worn. Some still had wounds, but it appeared that Farielle had reached her limit of healing spells for the moment. "The streets of the city are not safe for any, it seems. These elves sought refuge from harassment by Gromnir's men- I could not turn them away, but few of them were unhurt. I will take some rest and begin working with them once more, but it will be some time before I find time to breathe. Still, you have earned my gratitude, and I am still indebted to you. I believe you had some questions for me the last time you were here?"

"Yeah, that's about right." Imoen nodded. "Sorry about the quick exit- had some things to take care of. These are some of the friends I mentioned- Aerie, and Minsc."

"Nice to meet you." Aerie smiled. "It seems as though Imoen made an impression the last time she was here..."

"One could say that." Farielle said with a wince, pain in her body giving her pause as she walked to an old wooden table on the opposite side of the altar, sitting down to speak with them. "When she last came, Gromnir's men had finally decided that all my potions and healing supplies were to be confiscated for their own use, rather than at the disposal of any who are in need. I could scarce stop them on my own, but your Imoen took the time to aid my defense."

"That is because Imoen is as noble as Minsc and Boo." Minsc said proudly, patting Imoen on the back with a nod. "She is a very nice girl, and often helps those in need. Or picks their pockets. But that is all in good fun, right Boo?"

"Wasn't nothing, really." Imoen grinned, seating herself and tucking one knee up near her chest as she reclined in the rickety chair. "But you look pretty tired, so we'll make this quick and get out of here so you can get some rest. I think you mentioned something about knowing how to get inside the castle?"

"Something of the sort. But not... directly, no." Farielle admitted, tucking one strand of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "It has to do with the city jail, you see- several years ago I was asked to seal the jail with wards and powers of the divine. Powerful undead creatures had begun taking up residence in the abandoned stonework below. Because Saradush is a small city, we did not have a militia strong enough to go in and wipe out the evil before it grew too strong. All we could hope for was containment... and so I sealed the doors with both key and magic. For a time, it seemed, nothing could get in or out and that was good enough for us."

"You said this could help us get into the palace... does the jail lead into the palace?" Aerie asked with a frown.

"Yes... though I admit I don't know exactly how." Farielle poured a cup of water from a clay pitcher resting on the table, taking it both hands and staring at her own reflection in the vessel before taking a sip. "I was in the jail only a few times before the undead took up residence. I would sometimes meet the Count of the city there for... for a midnight tryst. It was a halfway point, he could get to it from inside the palace, and I would not be seen by any other than him. Perhaps you think less of me for such indiscretions, what with the Countess-"

"If you can help us get inside that palace, then it makes no difference to us who you did or didn't knock boots with." Imoen winked, her impish spirit a bit of relief in such dark times for the beleaguered woman. "So I guess the question is, can you get us inside that jail?"

"No... or at least, I shouldn't be able to." she shook her head. "I gave the Count the key to the jail when I had finished sealing it. When Gromnir exiled him from the city, I assume that the General took the key for himself."

Aerie's heart sank with the realization- "You mean to say that the only one who has the key is in the castle already..."

"Yes, but here is where you may yet find hope." Farielle said with a slight smile. "I recently gave aid to a man who was delirious, half-dead. He stumbled into the Temple late at night, raving about how they were after him, that he wasn't safe. I administered what healing I could to him, but he was very weak. His life energies had been drained... he died the next morning, but before he passed out completely that night he kept warning me about the courtesans- that they weren't human. He said they were vampires... which admittedly, fit with the symptoms of his ailment."

"So... you think the vampires are from the jail? That's a little bit of a leap, dont'cha think? I mean, there could be another nest of vampires somewhere in the city, right?" Imoen shrugged.

"Not likely." Farielle shook her head. "I did some research after the man's untimely death- apparently, a group of courtesans have been plying their trade inside the Tankard Tree, but only at night. From the accounts of the barman, those who leave with them are never seen again. To prove this theory to myself, I went to the Tankard once, a week ago. I attuned the energies of the divine upon one of the courtesans while I sat in one of the booths, watching them silently. The next morning, I scryed over the whole city with the eye of the divine, looking for hints of the life energies I had attuned myself to."

"And it was in the jails, yes? Another chance to hunt vampires and the undead... heh. Minsc likes killing the undead. Boo likes it too." the ranger grinned.

"So... how are they getting out? You said you sealed the jail for both sides, right? Magic and physical?" Imoen queried.

"I fear I know little else that could be of value in your quest. I have told you all I know- I can only pray that you find a way inside, if only to deal with Il-Khan. He is a tormented man; the taint of Bhaal poisons his blood and tortures his soul. I would feel more pity for him, but he has been… very cruel. Gromnir trusts no one and has locked himself away in the palace to await the inevitable end of this siege, though I fear that he will first bring destruction to us all."

Imoen paused for a moment, then asked quietly, "What about Mellissan? What can you tell us about her? We met the woman once, very briefly..."

"She is a virtuous woman, a truly kind and compassionate lady." Farielle said firmly, her words striving to placate the suspicion she could see in Imoen's eyes. "I know what you are thinking- and yes, it could be considered her fault for what has happened here. But it was not as she intended- she brought the Bhaalspawn to Saradush to find them sanctuary within its walls. It is not her fault that Gromnir took advantage of our hospitality…she meant well. Alas, this siege has thwarted her noble efforts. When the walls fall, as they surely must, all the Bhaalspawn will be slaughtered and her efforts to save them will be for naught."

"You sound like you have lost hope." Aerie noted. "Do you not think Saradush can be saved?"

"At one point, perhaps… but no longer." she shook her head. "Gromnir has wasted too much of our resources and manpower. I pray and keep the store open for all who seek healing… but it is a losing battle this city fights."

Farielle sighed, but forced a smile as she stood, shuffling to the crates that held her dwindling supplies as she mussed about, finally finding the items she had been searching for. She handed three small vials of shimmering water to them, as well as a pair of sharp wooden stakes. "Here... tools for fighting the vampires, should you achieve entry. I hope you find what you seek... for all our sakes."

X X X X X X

"Please, sit... you must forgive my, ah, enthusiasm when Bernard spoke of someone responding to my calls for aid." Anomen forced a smile as the drow elf sat opposite him, the barman placing two drinks before them with an apology falling from his lips as he shuffled off, wiping his forehead with the dirty rag in his apron. "We have met before, though you may not remember me. I am Anomen Delryn, warrior-priest of Helm."

Solaufein studied the bearded squire's features a moment, then nodded in affirmation. He picked up his mug and sipped the alcohol inside, his face twisting at the taste- Hendak usually had better stock than this. Anomen noticed Solaufein's look of disgust, chuckling as he tasted his own, then pushed it to the side. "I suppose it should not be a surprise- the conflicts and wars erupting across Faerun have certainly disrupted trade, among other things."

"Perhaps. You said that we have met previously- once, I recall. Fighting Githyanki outside the De'Arnise lands. I am called Solaufein. Now that introductions and pleasantries are out of the way, tell me what you are searching for." Solaufein spoke, his voice even and commanding.

The squire was clearly not quite accustomed to one so direct and undiplomatic with his words- he nodded after a moment of surprise, folding his hands before him upon the table. "Very well, right to the point. I have recently received a quest from the Prelate of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. It is a dire mission, and normally not one which would be entrusted to any but a throng of the Order's most experienced warriors. However, because of the shorthanded nature of these violent days, only I was available to accomplish this task. Still, I cannot do it alone. I will need aid, and for this, I seek the hands of those I know to be righteous warriors, good and true. From our past encounter, I would guess that you might be the sort of man I seek."

"You claim to know much of my nature from that one meeting." Solaufein said, amusement creeping into his voice. "How do you know I am, as you call it, 'a righteous warrior, good and true'? Am I not a drow, creature of the Underdark? Surely most of your kinsman in the Radiant Heart would seek my death on sight."

Anomen shrugged in acquiescence, nodding without reluctance. " 'Tis true, and I am ashamed to say I thought very little of you when I first saw you fighting alongside the Bhaalspawn and his companions upon our first meeting. Still, I spent a great deal of time with them afterwards, though you had departed their company by then. They told me of your valor and nature, and I shall not be one to doubt their words. T'was only a week ago that I found myself fighting alongside them in mortal combat-"

"You were with Greywulf a week ago?!" Solaufein asked sharply, a sudden interest in this news. "Where? When did you last see them?"

"I... at the Hall of the Radiant Heart." Anomen frowned, taken by surprise at the flood of intensity to the warrior elf's words. "They were kind of enough to wait for my judgment by the Prelate before leaving to take their own matters into account. I thought highly of their compassion- I presume you are seeking them once more, judging from your reaction to this news."

Solaufein paused, unsure of how to answer Anomen's query. It was true- they had met briefly, once. Solaufein had not spent much time with the squire, but from the reactions of those he had traveled with, most specifically the paladin Keldorn, it had seemed that while Anomen's heart and loyalties may have been in the right place, he was in dire need of some maturing before they would consider spending any prolonged amount of time with him. If his statements were true, it would appear that either he had done just that, or Greywulf's taste in companions had lessened. "I am seeking them, true enough." Solaufein finally replied, choosing his words carefully. The last thing he needed right now was to be roped into some quest when Imoen and her brother were in danger. He still needed to warn them... though if Elhan and the elves had told him the truth, they were already informed of what he knew.

"Then perhaps I can help you find them." Anomen declared, a smile crossing his features, though it was his words that got Solaufein's attention. "I did travel with them for a spell, after all, and from the look on your face, whatever you seek them for is of the utmost importance. Am I correct?"

"Most certainly." Solaufein nodded, his eyes narrowing with realization. "What of your quest? Surely it cannot be put on hold so easily..."

"No. No it cannot, and here is where I fear that I must hold you to a bargain, should I lend my aid. This task that I have been given... believe me when I say that it has ramifications for all of Faerun. Yet I know in my heart that I will not find worthy allies in this place anymore than I shall complete my quest. I need those who have both the strength to do the impossible, as well as the spirit of righteousness. The Bhaalspawn and his companions were the first men and women I thought of when given this task, and by the will of the gods, I now find you, also seeking them. Truly, you cannot deny that we have been fated to meet!"

"You have a fanciful way of looking at the world, Anomen." Solaufein smirked, though Anomen's growing enthusiasm was undeterred. "Fated or not, I see your mind- you would wish me to accompany you on your mission while we search for the others... but this task of yours will come first, of course."

"Of course-" Anomen paused, holding his tongue as he tried to fight down the swell of pride and, dare he say it, arrogance that was beginning to creep into his tone again. It had been a long struggle to get where he was, and it had taken many frank discussions with both members of the Order, as well as friends and companions, to show him just how capable of unbridled hubris he truly was. So easy to slip into that once again... he exhaled, tightening the grip he held on his own excitement. "Unfortunately, yes. I must not delay any longer than necessary in my orders. If we cannot locate them, I will not hesitate to enlist others, less worthy, in this mission that I have been given. However, you have my solemn oath that if you come with me, I will do everything in my power to help you find Greywulf and his companions."

His words rang in the air between them, and Solaufein could tell simply by looking the young man in his eyes, he believed every word he said. He might as well have sworn an oath- whatever had happened between now and the time they had first met had done wonders, apparently. Still, could he stand to waste time on some errand that the Radiant Heart deemed of so little importance as to send one squire on, when some of the few people on the surface who had ever shown him kindness were in danger? As much as he hated to admit it, there had been little trace of them so far, and despite the account of the elves, quite possibly the last people to have seen them alive, there was nothing but a dead end to be found in the grove near Suldenesselar. The elves would not grant him permission to visit the grove and investigate himself, but if some strange magic had swallowed them on the spot, as Elhan had said, there was little he could track that the elven mages of the city could not.

"Well? I do not mean to pressure you, but if you would join my company, we should be off. The longer we delay, the further that those we seek might travel." Anomen spoke, trying not to fidget. He could tell that his earnest pleas were making an impression on the drow, and it was no act. He was one of the few men that Anomen deemed worthy to join this crusade, and had he found no-one better, it would have fallen to recruiting the likes of Korgan Bloodaxe, Viconia DeVir, or Helm forbid that annoying gnome Jansen once more.

"Very well." Solaufein spoke, standing from the table as Anomen scrambled to do the same, extending a gauntleted hand in fellowship. "I shall travel with you for a time- tell me now, what exactly is this quest of yours?"

X X X X X X

"Vampires, hmm? Figures. I hate vampires." Greywulf remarked as he folded his arms on the circular bar table within the Tankard Tree. They'd agreed to meet back in the bar after accomplishing their separate missions of reconnaissance, and it had gone quicker than anyone had anticipated. Not that it meant their tasks would be simple- Imoen's report on what they'd learned from Sister Farielle had made that abundantly clear. What they were about to share... well, they had their work cut out for them.

"I know what you mean." Imoen said with a scowl- if anyone had reason to hate the Nosferatu, it was definitely the thief-mage. Still, Bodhi was ancient history, and hopefully this particular encounter would prove less... unpleasant. "I took a quick wander around this place once we got back, but I didn't see any sign of them. It's still a few hours before midnight, though so maybe they're just running late tonight."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the constant barrage of catapult fire has finally convinced them that hiding or fleeing might be the best way to continue extending their already unnatural lives." Jaheira mused.

"Boo hopes not. If they fled, then Minsc would not get a chance to smash their little undead skulls into dust. And we could not get into the castle. Both would be bad." the ranger amongst them declared, Minsc smiling kindly at a waitress as she walked past, returning the smile with a hint of desperation as she tried to ignore the catcalls and whistles directed her way by a group of Gromnir's men, drunken and armored, seated across the tavern from them.

"What did you three find out? Did they catch the man who betrayed Saradush?" Aerie asked, her eyes catching Greywulf's and drawing his attention back to the matter at hand.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. But it's never quite as simple as that..." Greywulf chuckled softly. "We got to the scene almost a full minute after the wall had been breached- and by your account, Gaelan didn't lead you inside first, you were among the second wave of soldiers to try and get inside."

"An easy opportunity for whoever unlocked the gates to do so and escape without any of us spotting him." Sarevok grunted, his dark tones echoing in the darkness surround their barely lit table.

"Except that while we might not have seen anything, the wall guard spotted two people running from the area when he was descending to help fight off the intruders." Greywulf explained with a smirk. Still, there was a sense of sarcasm to his words that could not be explained just yet- it seemed there was more to this tale than he had let on just yet. "Seems that one Mateo Geralt, upstanding guard of Saradush, was spotted chasing Kiser Jhaeri, snake-oil salesman and a merchant who, according to the words of the captain of the guard, would sell his own mother to make a profit."

"Seems pretty straight-forward to me." Imoen remarked with a shrug, but a crash echoed across the room as the waitress that had been desperately trying to avoid Gromnir's men dropped a platter in trying to avoid their jeers and gropes- Greywulf frowned as he noted a wrapped hand on one of them, as well as a number of bruises. "You have *got* to be kidding..."

"What?" Imoen asked.

"That soldier over there... he was the one man Sarevok left alive the last time he and a few of his buddies were trying something like that when we were last here. I suppose some folk never learn-"

"Minsc will handle this. Please, continue." The ranger said with a curt smile, pushing himself away from the table and striding over to where the commotion was taking place. Sarevok let himself smile tightly as he glanced at Greywulf. "Hnh. I suppose your ways of mercy have worked themselves out quite well, eh? Had I simply killed the fool-"

"Here's the thing." Greywulf spoke loudly and with a hint of irritation, cutting Sarevok off before he could continue gloating. "Mateo claims he spotted Kiser opening the gates and letting the enemy inside, like you say- but the Countess of the city owns a house overlooking that part of the wall, and claims that she saw what happened below."

"And I'm going to take a wild shot in the dark and say she claims otherwise." Imoen groaned, Greywulf nodding in response.

"Exactly. Sure it doesn't make any logical sense, but if she was an eyewitness, then her word can't be disputed quite so easily. She claims Mateo opened the gate and Kiser spotted him- he was running for his life, fearful that Mateo would kill him before he informed the authorities."

"She's lying." Sarevok stated calmly, ignoring the sound of a crash across the room as the soldier with the wounded hand bounced off the wall, breaking a table and two chairs on his way. "We got to the Captain's quarters in time to watch the hearing between Kiser, Mateo, and the Countess. Whatever hold this Kiser has on her must be strong- she was most certainly under duress, but the fool in charge would not dare question her word. Men like him are what made my ascension within Baldur's Gate possible."

"So what? We just wait for the executioner to take this Mateo's head off? Are the guards going to investigate this at all, or are we, like always, left holding that particular bag?" Imoen rolled her eyes. "I suppose it's not all that surprising. We could be out in the middle of the desert, a hundred miles from the nearest piece of anything resembling civilization, and you'd find somebody needing us to do something for them. 'Go get my boots and bottle of wine from my spare house in Beregost.' Sheesh, you remember that?"

"Yes, I remember." Greywulf laughed. "It wasn't that bad, in retrospect. There were only a few giant spiders to battle. Not that we had enough experience at the time to know the first thing about fighting a nest of those things..."

The sound of Sarevok growling elicited a sigh from Greywulf as he forced the discussion back on topic. "Unfortunately, with everything going on in Saradush right now, the guards can't take the time off of defending the walls to talk with the Countess or check Kiser's story. It's not like leaving a suspected traitor free will compromise the city again. Still, we don't *know* Kiser's guilty... we just suspect. And until we've solved this, the city's vulnerable. We need to know the real traitor is behind bars. Or dead."

"Agreed." Jaheira nodded. "It would not hurt, however, to get some idea of whether Kiser speaks the truth or not. Perhaps you should take some of us and speak with the Countess again. She was distraught enough that I doubt she will maintain a lie for long under the face of questioning."

Minsc returned to the group's table, only breathing a little heavier than before. He smiled and thumbed behind him as he spoke, "The pretty waitress will be fine, and both men have paid for the damages."

"Did that payment involve taking their money and giving it to the barkeep?" Aerie asked teasingly as he seated himself again between Aerie and Greywulf, a look of innocence on Minsc's features.

"Good timing, Minsc." Greywulf laughed, pushing the big man's arm lightly. "You, Aerie, Sarevok and I are going to pay the Countess a visit. Imoen, Jaheira... perhaps it might do us some good if you two investigated Mr. Jhaeri's dwelling before we meet him in person. I trust you'll be discreet?"

"I will keep her under control." Jaheira remarked dryly, Imoen sticking her tongue out in reply.

"Fair enough." the sorcerer smiled in satisfaction as he eyed the unconscious soldiers, their sword bent over Minsc's knee and lying on the ground beside them. "Let's get moving- these walls outside won't stand forever."


	11. Part 1: With Friends Like These

Alone. That was the best way to describe her, now. Absolutely, intolerably, alone. It was funny though, because that's exactly what she had never wanted to be. What she had tried her best to avoid, throughout all the turmoil and strife that had plagued her life for the past weeks and months. Mirnelle Santele, Countess of Saradush, tried with all her might to still her trembling hands as she stood before the fireplace mantle, holding a small picture of her family.

The Count Santele, her husband. Gone. Exiled from their city when that fiend Gromnir had arrived, declaring himself ruler of Saradush. He had tried to put up a fight, tried to resist, but Gromnir was too powerful, had too many powerful friends. He was gone, and she would probably never see his face, his charming features ever again. Still, she had been allowed to remain- Mellissan had pleaded her case and Gromnir had finally relented- everyone knew that he was in charge now, after all. What could she do to oppose him? Nothing... and she knew it.

Still, she also had her son. Her son Ardic and his best friend Mateo. The two were inseparable, and she had been more a mother to Mateo than his own kin. They were like brothers, and she cared for both of them as dearly as she could muster. Without her husband to comfort her, she threw herself into their lives, watching out for them, ensuring that they received the best of everything in life, the best training, the best weaponry, even the best mentors when they applied to be part of the city militia. And they had been good- both of them. Inseparable, and unbeatable when fighting side by side. The pain of losing her husband had almost been covered over completely by the pride she felt in these two young men.

Then the siege came. The armies of Yaga-Shura, surrounding their city and bringing them to the brink of destruction. Even in these dark times, she still found strength in her sons.

And then Ardic... Ardic, her son, her blood child had vanished. Vanished and neither she nor the rest of the militia knew where to find him. He had simply... vanished. Not slain in battle, not marching to his death, knowing what he faced... he was simply gone. And now Mateo... she felt tears begin to well up at her eyes, and there would be no stopping the sobs that were sure to come-

A rap at the door of her tower startled her, shaking the despair and grief from her momentarily. Her blue gown trailed behind her slightly as she made her way to the door- once upon a time her guards would have answered the call, but she had long since lost their services to the growing desperation surrounding the defense of Saradush. Besides, what need had she for guards when all her valuables had been taken by that mongrel Gromnir? Not that it had stopped opportunistic scum from trying to rob her home, taking advantage of the chaos that the siege had caused. As if accruing a few measly gold coins would extend the last days of their lives.

Still, even if it were nothing more than money-hungry vermin, any interruption would do to take her mind off the tragedy of the past days. She collected herself, and then walked to the door, trying to show a glimmer of the proud, regal woman she had been once. Opening the door, she found herself face to face with four men and women, either heavily armored or dressed in the garb of a wizard; their very presence was not to be disregarded. More mercenaries, perhaps, come to steal what little she had left for Gromnir's profit?

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice holding steady, showing no trace of the weakness she felt deep inside.

"I can assure you that we're not here to harm you, Countess." Greywulf smiled warmly; though her voice was rock-solid, her body language screamed nervousness and barely suppressed terror. Perhaps finding out the truth from her would be easier than he had hoped. "We were part of the battle to repel the invaders that came through when the traitor opened the gates. Whoever that traitor was."

The Countess' eyes widened at the mention of the traitor, and the effect was immediate and striking. It was not, however, the reaction that the four adventurers had expected. "Get... get out! I have nothing to say to you! Any of you-"

"Wait a moment, please..." Aerie reached out a hand, her big blue eyes catching the Countess terrified gaze. "We're not here to accuse you of anything, or to try and harm you- we just want to ask you a few questions, that's all."

"Yes indeed." Minsc nodded. "Boo would not harm a lady such as yourself. It would not be proper etiquette. Did Minsc pronounce that correctly? Ah... Boo says yes."

"We just want you to tell us what you told Captain Samand about Mateo and Kiser- we overheard some of the conversation when we were coming to see the Captain, but not all of it."

"Your testimony is keeping Mateo in the city jail, when he could be defending the walls from the army waiting to slaughter everyone." Sarevok remarked, his arms folded as he leaned against the wall, his armor shifting loudly. "Are you quite positive that you remembered the events correctly? Mateo betraying the gates, Kiser fleeing to warn the city?"

"I... yes. That's what I saw." Countess Santele said, her voice a bare whisper as she tried to look at them with reddened eyes. "Please... just leave me alone. I have told you what I told them- there is nothing more for me to say."

It was distinctly obvious that the woman was lying to them- but there was no hint that she was willing to change her mind or tell them what had really taken place. The answer was also obvious- but without any sort of proof, they couldn't simply walk into Kiser's house and kill the man. Well, they probably could have, but that was far too much like the Slayer's solution to everything- kill first and ask questions later.

"Please... if you're afraid of someone hurting you for telling us the truth, you don't have to worry." Aerie shook her head with a gentle smile. "Minsc and Greywulf have saved my life more t-times than I can count. You can trust us."

"I said I don't know anything!" Mirnelle shrieked, erupting with grief and anger without warning. She pulled away from Aerie, determined to fight off these intruders- she pulled a dagger from her robes, stepping away from them and leveling it at them, nearly hyperventilating. "Get out of my house! Get out or I will kill you myself!!"

"I-" Greywulf hesitated, raising his hands in as placating a manner as possible. They couldn't very well force the issue- whatever had really happened, it was affecting the Countess deeper than he could have guessed. Something was wrong... very wrong. But unless she cooperated in some way, they wouldn't know where to start with the exception of investigating Kiser, and Imoen and Jaheira were already on that, or at least as much as they could without further evidence. Trying to push her any further could result in her actually attacking one of them-

Sarevok stepped forward, his blade, surprisingly, still in its sheath. Greywulf opened his mouth to ask what he thought he was doing, but instead of blustering a threat or booming an insult, he lowered his posture to look into her eyes directly. "I know why you fear us, Countess. You fear what will happen to you, and to the ones you love if you tell us anything. You are afraid of those who would hurt you. I tell you without doubt, that should anyone try and threaten you, or us, for speaking to you? They will die. They will suffer beyond anything they have ever imagined. And for whatever they have done to you... there shall be a reckoning."

Mirnelle swallowed, unable to take her eyes off of Sarevok's face, his glowing yellow eyes- she glanced down, removing a small bag from her robes, opening it and dumping the contents on the floor- Aerie gasped as Greywulf winced, a severed finger rolling to a halt with a ring on the thick end of it. "It... it belonged to my son." the Countess whispered through growing tears, meeting Sarevok's gaze again. "I saw Mateo chasing Kiser from the drain before it opened, but I did not see who opened it. Kiser came to my house soon after, telling me that I would be questioned by Captain Samand soon, and that I should tell him Mateo was the traitor. He... gave me that, and told me if I didn't, I would never see Ardic again. I just want my son back..."

"Countess..." Greywulf stepped in and took her by the shoulders, drawing her tear-stained face to his. "You did the right thing here. We are going to find your son, and we are-"

"Going to take revenge for every misdeed that this worthless mongrel has lain upon you and your family." Sarevok cut Greywulf off, nodding to the countess grimly. "I will make him pay with his blood for what he has done. Do you understand?"

Mirnelle clutched her robes, nodding quietly as the slightest hint of an upward curl appeared at the edges of his mouth, before he left, the others reluctantly following him, nothing left to say, apparently. As they departed her house, watching the sky carefully for any sign of incoming catapult fire breaching the weakened magic barrier, Greywulf arched an eyebrow at Sarevok. "So... the big man has a softer side. So to speak. Didn't think you had that kind of diplomacy in you... such as it was."

"Then you fall into the same trap that so many of my foes fell into." Sarevok replied evenly. "Do you think that I nearly conquered Baldur's Gate through strength of arms alone? I had to play the cards of deception more often than you could know. Politics, diplomacy, bargaining... I had to master all of it to reach the station of Duke."

"I still find it strange that she responded to your efforts and not ours." Aerie remarked, frowning at the bark of laughter coming from the dark warrior.

"How naive. You and your own know only one way, the way of peace, of gentle, quiet coercion, appealing to the lighter side of these fools- it is as I have always said. Men rise to the occasion when faced with the prospect of a blade, far more than they will in the face off your pretty words. And if not a threat to them personally... then a threat to those they hate most. Fear can stifle the noblest of heroes, but revenge... revenge can quell any cowardice. I should know... revenge has been a fuel for my strength in many a battle."

Sarevok grinned darkly as though to punctuate his final words, then stalked ahead, leaving the other three behind to consider what he had said... and what it meant for them and the rest of the group. Greywulf watched him for a moment, as though reconsidering something. Minsc's face was inscrutable as always, and Aerie... Aerie shivered a bit further, wondering just when they would be rid of this evil man.

X X X X X X

Imoen closed her eyes, letting her nimble fingers take over all of her senses in this delicate task. This Kiser Jhaeri was certainly wealthy enough to afford some of the best locks she'd ever had the pleasure of trying to pick, and he was definitely getting his money's worth. It had taken her and Jaheira nearly an hour to find a window where they wouldn't be seen breaking and entering, and another hour to get the schedule of the guards' that patrolled Mr. Jhaeri's dwelling on a regular basis. They had only two minutes before the next patrol came by the study adjacent to the library- the room they were looking to enter certainly had enough bookshelves to be considered one unto itself- and with the amount of time it was taking to get her lock picks through the first three tumblers, she wasn't certain she could make the fourth and fifth before the guards(who looked unusually well armed and alert) came through again. If they did, she'd have to abandon her attempt and start the whole process over again. That was something she was definitely looking to avoid- of course, there was always the direct option, should it come down to it.

"Imoen, we are running out of time..."

Imoen grit her teeth as she tried to block out Jaheira's insistent words, instead concentrating fully on the task at hand. She could feel the minute tumbler inside shift as she pushed up with her pick, holding her breath as she tried to get it to latch just right- there. Only one left now... and without warning, she yelped as Jaheira slammed into her, pushing the thief-mage out of sight and holding her pressed beneath her own body as the druid glanced upward at the window, barely spotting the form of Kiser Jhaeri himself enter the room, settle into a chair on the far side of the library, and begin reading a book.

"Jaheira... you can get off me now-" Imoen wheezed as the druid slowly slid off, keeping low so there would be no chance of the merchant spotting them through the window they had been trying to break into.

"Damn." Imoen swore unhappily, gathering her scattered tools and slipping them back into her belt purse. "This might be a little more difficult than we thought."

"We'll need some kind of distraction." Jaheira agreed, leading Imoen past the window frame and back into the main streets where they would meet the others once they had spoken with the Countess. "Though perhaps with the insanity that you and Greywulf come up with for these kinds of plans, it might be better if *I* make the choice of distraction in this instance."

"Sure, take all the fun out of it." Imoen pouted, glancing back around the side of the house to make sure they hadn't been noticed. "Why dont'cha just ask me to stop behaving like a child while yer at it."

"Because that would be pointless." Jaheira stated, before leaning over and stating matter-of-factly, "Since you still are one, child."

Imoen snorted, and for a moment the two simply stood in silence together- the druid and the thief-mage, companions for so very long, yet so very different. Out of all of them, Jaheira and Imoen were the only two who had yet to find that... happy medium, so to speak. Almost every other conflict between the party had been resolved long ago- with the exception of Sarevok's new influence, of course. But between the old guard, they had fought their share of inter-party conflicts, but each one had eventually passed and been resolved after some time. Aerie and Jaheira, to name one of the foremost conflicts. But Imoen and the half-elf druid... it just never seemed to go anywhere. There was always that hint of tension between the two. Never any sort of outright hostility, just... tension.

Maybe it was the way Jaheira seemed to refuse to see Imoen as more than that frightened, naive girl she had met in the Friendly Arm Inn so long ago. She never had stopped calling her 'child', after all. Greywulf had eventually earned her respect- granted, their relationship was quite different, especially in recent months, but still... Imoen sighed and tried to put the thoughts behind her. They would pass soon enough, as they always did. Normally it didn't bother her at all, but recently... with the taint of Bhaal growing ever stronger within her, little things got her temper so much easier. Got her to feel that tightness in the throat, that blood rushing to her head. She should probably tell someone about it, Greywulf at the very least- no. She'd said it before, back when Greywulf and she had been trying to cope with the loss of their souls. Everyone had a role to play- Greywulf's was the unshakeable leader, hers was the impish trickster. Even if she didn't feel it inside, she was damn good at playing it anyway.

A tingling feeling made Imoen frown, realizing she was being stared at. She glanced up to see that it was Jaheira, an expectant look on the druid's face. "Did you hear anything I just said, Imoen?"

"Ah... nah. But that's kind of normal for me when yer talkin, so..." Imoen said with a wink and a grin- if she could've she would've patted herself on the back. Classic Imoen quip. Immature, funny, and a complete deflection of any inquiry into her mental state. Unfortunately, she was talking to the only person on the group who would've picked up on it.

"Is there something wrong, Imoen? If you wish to speak, you have but to ask..." Jaheira frowned, stepping closer as a trace hint of concern filled her tone. Imoen could have cursed- she needed a new plan to deflect Jaheira's inquiries. She was too good to fall for an out and out lie- but what was it Jaheira had said about Yoshimo's betrayal, how he had been able to trick them? A hint of truth amidst all the lies...

"I... it's nothing, Jaheira. I just-" Imoen paused a moment, biting her bottom lip, the little twitch she'd developed when dropping her mask of unbending cheer and letting those around her in. "I know I've been a little distant lately. It's because... well..." Imoen let her gaze drift to the Harper Pin that dangled from Jaheira's neck, and Jaheira traced her gaze in an instant.

"Because of my association with the Harpers?" Jaheira smiled knowingly, and Imoen knew that the druidess had bought it wholeheartedly. "I thought so. Greywulf has suffered at the hands of many groups because of his lineage and now that you find you share it..."

"I don't mean to be a stranger, or to put you off with stupid jokes and stuff - I just… people will see me differently now, I just know." Imoen sighed. "I know everything between you and the Harpers is fixed… but what if they start to see Greywulf and me like-"

"Let them see you however they wish." Jaheira replied firmly, taking Imoen by the shoulder. "What can you do but just be yourself? I know these are only words but… you will be fine."

"I know." Imoen smiled, her eyes lighting up as she spotted the others approaching from the opposite side of the street running past Kiser's home. "Thanks, but I think the others are here. Wouldn't want to keep tall, dark, and gruesome waiting, right?"

She tried to hide it, but Imoen caught the slight twitch of amusement upon Jaheira's mouth at her description of Sarevok. True enough, he towered over all of them save Minsc, and his face bore the usual hard stare as the six of them reunited, Greywulf embracing Imoen and Jaheira in turn as they stepped away from the merchant's house, avoiding any accidental eavesdropping of their plans by the man they sought.

"Any luck getting inside the house?" Aerie asked, glancing at the fortress like home, eliciting only a frustrated sigh from Imoen. "Nope. And this guy's got the wealth to afford some of the best locks I've ever tried to pick. Some runes to make magic fizzle on 'em..."

"Can you get in or not?" Sarevok asked pointedly, Imoen glaring in reply at the challenge.

"Yes. Yes, I can get in, but it won't be easy. And I'll need a distraction. The guard comes by every five minutes or so... not a lot of room for error."

Jaheira nodded in agreement, then turned to the others with expectation. "And what of your efforts? Did the Countess provide any useful information?"

"The Countess is trapped like a hamster in a maze, and that is something to be saddened for, yes indeed." Minsc stated gravely. "Her son is missing, and the sneaky merchant has taken him! There must be vengeance for her son's life!"

"He is dead then?" Jaheira asked, but was met with a shrug of uncertainty from Greywulf. "We don't know. He's missing a finger, that much is certain... something of a grisly ultimatum from Kiser. 'Tell the Captain that Mateo is the traitor or Ardic loses more than a finger."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Imoen asked, letting a set of bluish-white sparks jump from her fingertips in anticipation. "We go in, kick this guy's ass, get her son out and problem's solved."

"For once we agree on something." Sarevok growled, though he turned his yellow-eyed glare on Greywulf in moments. "But your 'leader' seems disinclined to follow suit. Patience, is it?"

"Yes." Greywulf defended, finding himself on the defensive in an awkward turn of events. "We still don't *know* if Kiser is the traitor. There could be a reason for kidnapping Ardic... or maybe the Countess is somehow involved. We don't know all the facts just yet..."

"But surely we can't just sit here and do nothing while Ardic suffers?" Aerie asked with hesitant surprise, unsure of Greywulf's intention. "We know he's imprisoned- we should at least try to get him out."

"Also true." Greywulf nodded, exhaling quietly as he considered his plans, making one slight adjustment. "We'll need to confront Kiser no matter what and see what he's got to say for himself in all this. Odds are, we'll end up fighting, but on the off-chance he actually has a reasonable reason for what he's done, we won't necessarily leave the Countess' son there. Jaheira, Imoen- the two of you will get inside, but this time, you'll have a distraction. Us, that is. Find Ardic, make sure he's safe, and if you can get him out, so much the better. If not, we'll be there, so you'll have backup."

"Er... what if Ardic isn't in the house? I mean, what if Kiser's holding him somewhere else?" Aerie asked with uncertainty, but Greywulf only paused a moment before shaking his head.

"No. He'll want him close where he can keep an eye on him, or if worse comes to worse, use him as a shield."

There were only a few nods of acknowledgment, but for the most part it was somewhat dumbfounded silence... Greywulf had come up with a lot of ridiculous sounding plots in the past, trying unconventional tactics to get them out of tight spots, but usually they were reserved for life-or-death situations, times where they either thought outside the box or got buried in one. This... this was just plain sloppy. Too many loose ends, too many what if's. Protesting Kiser's possible innocence to the very ends of plausibility, yet assuming Ardic's presence in case whatever he may or not have been up to was found out? Still, they trusted him, and it wasn't as though he was asking them to defend a Keep against an army of invading orcs. Imoen and Jaheira slunk back to the side of the house, peeking through the window, waiting until the guard passed through again before signaling the others to knock-

"A... interesting plan, you've conceived, brother." Sarevok smirked quietly, Greywulf glaring back with irritation.

"Hold your tongue, *brother.*"

"I did not mean to offend. Only... it seems strange that you would give so much credit to this already suspicious merchant, refusing to act on him with the force he has undoubtedly earned." Sarevok smiled, letting his white teeth show even further. "Even our unfathomably cheerful sister agrees with the approach of giving this villain a direct approach. I simply wonder why you would show such restraint now, with so much at stake..."

"Because I don't kill unless I absolutely have to, that's why." Greywulf bit back, harsher than he had intended, drawing glances from the others with them, slowly taking notice of their conversation.

"Is that so?" Sarevok chuckled, his voice still even and quiet. "Imoen seems to disagree... no. I don't think so. You are so determined to show me up, to prove that 'your way' works better than mine that you ignore the evidence right before your eyes, going to any lengths to distance yourself different than me, even when we might normally agree. I had no idea that my presence would cause such idiocy within you. How... amusing."

Before anyone could say another word, the sound of a bird echoed from the druid-warrior as Imoen began her work, already pushing through the tumblers she'd bested previously- Minsc grabbed the door handle and twisted, pushing the door open without bothering to knock. Sarevok followed Greywulf inside, smiling thinly. Greywulf was reacting to his goads, his presence, even better than he had anticipated. The sorcerer saw himself in Sarevok... and just like Sarevok knew he would, he pushed himself to any lengths to distance themselves. Even if it meant putting Saradush in danger. Of course, he couldn't let Greywulf's attempts at fleeing their kinship endanger the overall mission. He'd have to back off a bit, let the sorcerer stew on what he'd seen, on what he knew in his heart to be true, while still leading with a clear head. That didn't mean, of course, that he couldn't play one last card. And he knew exactly what that next card would be. And then... oh, how he looked forward to seeing what Greywulf would do.

X X X X X X

The sound of dock workers shouting back and forth and waves crashing against the boats moored all along the District provided a constant background din to encase the pair of warriors in ambient noise as they made their way back from visiting the dwarven smith Cromwell. Anomen tried not to show the disappointment he was struggling with as he exhaled lightly. "Once more we find ourselves alone on this mission. T'was quite the hope, I suppose, to think that Cromwell might know of other warriors worthy of our attention in this city."

"If you are so desperate to find other warriors, you would have little trouble finding those who would join your cause for the right price." Solaufein remarked quietly. "The City of Coin, yes?"

Apparently Solaufein's words triggered disdain within the squire- his features knit in what could only be interpreted as annoyance as he shook his head vigorously, "Nay, this is no job for simple mercenaries of fickle loyalty and money-driven morals. This mission must be performed with the utmost of care and reverence- Helm demands no less."

Anomen's intermittent bouts of overly pious attitude were slightly confusing, especially when combined with the purposeful humility he demonstrated the rest of the time. Solaufein found it an odd dichotomy, remaining quiet as he traveled beside his newfound companion- it was obvious that the man felt a great need to prove himself, but rather than boast of his accomplishments and present himself as the hero he wished himself to be, Anomen had chosen a quieter, humbler path... most of the time. He still showed glimmers of the old self that had alienated so many, nearly destroyed him and any chance he had held for joining the Order.

"Ah... excuse my words." Anomen sighed, having taken Solaufein's silence not as simple reflection but a judgment on the tone of his last words. "I should not be so eager to tout my own piousness- these are the times I wish Keldorn were still here. I could use his wisdom now."

"For yourself or for this quest that I have yet to hear the direction of?" Solaufein noted, lowering his head and tugging his hood down further as a group of drunken sailors staggered by. The last thing they needed now was a riot because some of some foolish, frightened humans.

The squire smirked lightly, nodding in acquiescence. "There is wisdom in what you say... and to tell you the truth, I do not know either. Perhaps both. As for keeping you in the dark, I assure you it was completely unintentional. Perhaps I should explain-"

"You there! Halt!"

Solaufein whirled with a curse at his lips, sure he had been made by some over-eager fool looking to make some sort of name off of his hide, but he paused when he spotted a lithe man in hood and cloak fleeing with what was apparently stolen merchandise tucked under one arm, followed closely by an armored guard of the city, sword and shield in hand as he tried to keep up with the faster thief.

"A guard in the Docks? Strange... I had not thought the city foolish enough to attempt placing their own men in a district so heavily controlled by the Shadow Thieves." the drow murmured.

"They don't." Anomen nodded, his brow furrowing as he watched with sudden realization. "But I recognize that voice-"

Anomen suddenly bolted ahead, moving to intercept the fleeing man with Solaufein right on his heels. The thief spotted Anomen's oncoming bullrush and sidestepped at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the Helmite's tackle, sending Anomen hurtling into a pile of garbage head first. The guard who had been chasing him was moving too fast to avoid the sudden barrier in his way, and could not help but tumble into Anomen as well, throwing his sword to the side at the last moment before he accidentally severed one of their limbs. Solaufein was the only one left on his feet- and for all the speed that the thief possessed, he was no drow. Solaufein had a dagger in one hand and had hurled it, the blade plunging into the running man's left calf, eliciting a howl of pain as he slid to the ground, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He cursed in pain and anger as Solaufein walked slowly to stand before him, spitting at the drow's feet before ending his futile attempts at pulling the dagger out and instead drawing a small, one-handed crossbow from his robes and pointing it at Solaufein with a feral grin. "Yer gonna regret gettin involved, ye miserable pile of kobold dung!"

The drow narrowed his eyes and lowered his hood, the strands of his white hair blowing gently behind him as his red eyes fixed on the thief's, never moving. "Try it. Please."

The sudden revealing of what Solaufein really was made the downed thief pause for a brief moment- enough time for Anomen to slide to the criminal's side and grab the wrist with the crossbow, swinging into a harmless direction, the bolt shattering off a stone building as the man's finger spasmed on the trigger. Anomen's usually meticulously cleaned armor was covered in dirt and filth, his hair and beard had bits of garbage strewn through them, and if to complete the ensemble, a rotting banana peel was draped over his right shoulder pauldron. "Nicely done, Solaufein. Though I would hate for you to lose your dagger..."

Anomen yanked the blade out of his prisoner's calf, signaling a renewed flow of blood, that the squire staunched with a strip of cloth torn from the thief's cloak. The man glared daggers of hatred at both of them, then shouted viciously. "He's a drow!! We got a drow here in the cit-"

A gauntleted hand clamped down upon the thief's throat, cutting off his howls of attempted revenge, Anomen visibly restraining his temper. "You would do well to remain silent, thief. Yes, he is a drow. And if you know anything of the legends of that race, you will know that they are not known for their tolerance of fools. You, sir, have proven yourself one. Now be silent or I shall silence you myself. Permanently."

"Ach... I thank you for your aid. Even if it did not go quite as planned. You've done me a great service, citizens." the guard's voice, a bit sheepish yet trying to remain dignified was a stark contrast to the same dirtied complexion and features that Anomen had found himself subjected to. He was a broad man, well used to the arts of war, but obviously not meant for long distance running and chases like the one which the sullenly quiet thief had been subjecting him to.

"It was no trouble at all. Anything to help a member of the city guard... Sir Reynald." Anomen let the last part slip lightly, causing the guard to frown in wary caution, then blink as if opening his eyes for the first time since they had literally bumped into each other.

"I... Anomen? Sir Anomen Delryn, by Torm it is you!!" Reynald de Chatillon laughed aloud, removing his helmet and shaking Anomen's hand before his enthusiasm suddenly quieted, looking at Anomen with a hint of penitence in his face, suddenly unwilling to meet the squire's gaze. "Er... it is, ah, good to see you again. And as you know, it is no longer 'Sir' Reynald. You need not stand on such ceremony."

The sudden change of tone between the two was confusing for the drow onlooker- Solaufein broke up the awkward silence that had suddenly inhabited the formerly bright reunion of sorts, offering his hand, a gesture he rarely initiated to other surfacers, but something he felt appropriate given the circumstance. "Solaufein of Ust Natha."

"Er... a pleasure to meet you." Reynald stammered, somewhat unsure of how to greet the dark-skinned fighter. "I heard the zeal with which Sir Anomen defended you- I can only assume you are as valiant a warrior for justice as he- I cannot imagine he would tolerate any less at his side, drow or not."

Anomen squirmed uncomfortably- whether it was Reynald's humble statements or something else, he was obviously uncomfortable. He took the guardsman by the arm and smiled firmly. "Reynald- it has been a long time. I think we should speak again... speak of what has happened in recent days. Do you have time to indulge an old friend for a few moments?"

Apparently his words were a surprise to hear- de Chatillon considered what Anomen was saying with a frown, finally nodding slowly, gesturing at the thief with one thumb. "I... of course. Anything for a Knight of the Order. My shift ends soon enough- I will take this criminal back to the guard tower and then join you- where would you like to meet?"

"Perhaps the Sea's Bounty?" Anomen gestured to the west, pointing at the inn nestled between warehouses on the path leading out of the Docks. "My friend and I shall wait your arrival there."

"As you wish. I shall see you soon." Reynald nodded, hauling the thief to his feet, supporting him as he brought the criminal back to the guardhouse.

Solaufein watched the two of them vanish into the bustle of the District, then turned to Anomen, also watching them disappear, though with a look of regret crossing his bearded features. He waited until Anomen turned away, taken slightly by surprise at the intent study Solaufein was making of him. "I sense history between the two of you, squire."

"You sense correctly." Anomen smiled weakly as they walked back towards the Sea's Bounty together. "Reynald was once a member of the Radiant Heart, a paladin plain and true. For the love of a woman that was not his, Celestine, a temptation to great for him to bear, he was made unworthy of the vows he took to the Order. He was a good man, but cast out for a lack of self control."

"A harsh punishment, it would seem, for a crime so small." Solaufein remarked, and the implications of the Order's rule-heavy regulations was not lost on Anomen.

"Only those with the internal fortitude of the legends who have passed before us can hope to remain a member of the Order." he defended lightly, his normal zeal when speaking of his life-long dream not quite there. "But there are many good, decent men who have not the will to be counted among their number. Reynald was- is- a valiant man, and his indiscretions did not change that. He still sought to do good, and the companionship of warriors that he had found in the ranks of the Order."

"What happened?"

"He joined a group of men who, like him, had fallen from their position in the Radiant Heart, forming what was known as the Fallen Paladins. Led by the ex-knight Anarg, they used the name of the Order to further their own gains, doing 'good' deeds, but the motivation of self-service lurked behind every battle they fought. Many of them had embraced this new role so freely that they were no longer any trace of the men they had once been."

"But Reynald was different." Solaufein said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

"Yes. He was different." Anomen replied quietly, stepping forward to open the Sea's Bounty door before shouldering a path through the patrons to an unoccupied table at the back. "When I traveled with Greywulf and his party, we were tasked to hunt down and destroy this group, ending their disgrace of the Order's name. We bluffed our way into their ranks, meeting Reynald. He was Anarg's second in command. At the time, I thought of him as little more than gutter trash, scum who should have been killed for breaking his vows. When we finally fought Anarg, Reynald refused to fight us, but refused to fight with us. He fled, only to emerge when the battle was done, completely directionless and uncertain of what path to take with his life. He... he made a point to ask me, as a member of the Order, for absolution. I told him what I thought of him, and what I would have done to him were the others not there to restrain my wrath."

Solaufein thought of what Anomen had told him so far, and the arrogant, self-righteous man that the squire had been for so long. He grimaced, and Anomen simply nodded gravely.

"Exactly. Greywulf and the others were kinder souls than I, and directed him to the city guard, recommending him to the Chief Inspector of the city, Brega." Anomen shook his head as a pretty young waitress came to the table, offering her services. "Not at the moment, miss. Ah- as you can see, he has remained a good man, perhaps a better man than I, in the end. Even in the face of such persecution."

"Persecution?" Solaufein frowned.

"You mentioned that no guard gets posted in the Docks." Anomen laughed humorlessly. "Only those to whom the rest of the guards feel... animosity, towards. His past as a Fallen Paladin is undoubtedly known to them, and he pays for it, rather than becoming a mercenary or finding work in some other discipline where such a flaw would draw significantly less scorn."

"Ah- there you are! I had wondered if you would be visible in the crowd- I am glad to have found you." Reynald's voice caught their attention, and Solaufein watched Anomen with curiosity as the former paladin pushed his way to their table, seating himself opposite the former knight. The more he traveled among the surfacers, the more he found himself simultaneously puzzled and intrigued. This, Solaufein leaned back, waiting for the first of them to speak, would be worth watching.

X X X X X X

"Interlopers in my abode? Perhaps you have mistaken this edifice for an establishment of commerce. I assure you, you are mistaken. If you vacate these premises forthwith I shall exonerate you for the transgression of your intrusion."

Kiser Jhaeri was glaring up at the four of them from a plush chair he was seated at within the wide spaces of what looked like his dining quarters. The house was well stocked and finely furnished for such a dark time, and it was clear this man was used to fine living. From the entry hall, the path had split two ways, one leading down a hall with a closed door, the other towards the dining quarters they found themselves in now. Another room was adjacent to this one, the door open enough to see what looked like living quarters or a library, and another closed door was seated behind Kiser himself, across the room, either way it would be impossible to check that particular door without alerting the man. Ending his quick study of the room in a half-second, Greywulf spoke up, if only to end the man's loquaciousness, "We have some questions for you, Kiser."

"I am at a distinct disadvantage." Kiser said, standing to his feet with narrowed eyes. He was a tall man, though his body was covered loosely by robes that kept his build from being determined too easily. It was also a handy way to hide any weapons he might have had on him. "You have the privilege of knowing my appellation, yet your own moniker remains something of an enigma."

Greywulf winced, listening to the man's over-use of language. "Is there a reason you use so many big words? Are you trying to impress us, or just make us feel stupid?"

"My utilization of complex locution is more a reflection of my own superincumbent mental acuity than an aspersion on your circumscribed lexicon." Kiser sniffed, obviously pleased that his verbal dexterity had been noticed.

Aerie rolled her eyes and shot back, "Or perhaps your use of complex linguistics is merely an attempt to cover for a deficiency in the size of certain areas of body parts in your own nether regions."

Greywulf suppressed a smile at Aerie's comeback… the time she had spent with Imoen had certainly sharpened her wit as well as drawn her further out of her shell. "Oh… and it also makes you sound like a pompous ass." Greywulf finished.

"Uh…ahem…well…what can I do for you?" Kiser stammered, not quite expecting the stinging rebuke, before folding his arms, hands hidden beneath his robes. Definitely a blade of some kind hidden there. Not that it would do him much good, with both Minsc and Sarevok flanking him from either side. A flicker of motion caught Greywulf's eyes from one of the hallways. Guards were definitely alerted to their presence, and if a fight broke out, they might be surrounded very quickly. The study behind Kiser was where Imoen and Jaheira were slated to come in through- suppressing the urge to watch for their entrance, he did his best to focus on Kiser, and in turn, hopefully, keep Kiser's attention on him.

"I want to ask you a few questions about Mateo."

"Sorrowing circumstance, to be sure." Kiser sat back down, shaking his head with a tsking sound. "Who could have conjectured that Mateo was a traitor? I for one was caught completely by surprise."

Greywulf was about to speak again, but the sound like a cat hitting the floor drew a glance to the room behind Kiser- Imoen and Jaheira were inside. They were creeping out the second door to the library, down towards the door they had seen on the other end of the hall. Now they were on their own- hopefully Imoen's skill at stealth would be enough to push them past the guards posted down there. Maybe pushing a little further at Kiser would get the guards to concentrate on them... "Save it, Kiser - Countess Santele told me you kidnapped Ardic."

"So the Countess has violated her covenant of discretion. Before you vault to spurious conclusions, however, I suggest you hear my exegesis of the extenuating circumstances, Child of Bhaal." Kiser shook one finger. "Ah, your visage registers surprise - did you presume I did not know both your identity and ancestry long before you stumbled into my dwelling? I present you with an offer, Bhaalspawn. I admit my culpability in Ardic's abduction, yet this does not implicate me in the betrayal of Saradush. Mateo did indeed see me near the gates, but I was not the guilty party, and as you might suspect, neither is he."

Greywulf suppressed the urge to laugh, both at Kiser and himself. This was exactly the story Greywulf had given the others as a reason to go about the whole business in a stealthy manner, rather than simply charging in swords drawn. And it sounded just as foolish coming from Kiser as it must have coming from him. Sarevok was right- he was going to any lengths to differentiate himself from his darker sibling. Something he'd have to think on... later. Regardless of his feelings now, they were already too deep to change plans now. And besides... Kiser's use of giant vocabulary definitely gave Jaheira and Imoen time to work. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Go on."

"The real traitor is a wizard named Errard. He poses as a stalwart defender of Saradush, yet in truth he is a seditious prevaricator. The mind of that mage is convoluted beyond comprehension." Kiser said firmly. "He appears to be the pre-eminent force in maintaining the bulwark of shields that fortify Saradush, but his purpose is actually sinister. With each passing second he siphons sorcery from the defenses, rather than bolstering them."

"So why didn't you just tell Captain Samand that?" he asked with a frown.

"No one would believe my account - not without substantial proof. Captain Samand is driven by a perverse desire to ruin me, and he was willing to convict me based on Mateo's speculative testimony. I was compelled to secure my own liberty so that I could pursue my investigations against the sorcerer, and uncover the evidence that will implicate the renegade mage."

"But why did you kidnap Ardic and frame Mateo?" Aerie questioned.

"I could not let Errard know anyone suspects his involvement, or the wizard would destroy the evidence I need to procure." Kiser explained with a hint of annoyance, as though his words were self-explanatory. "And the only other people in the vicinity were Ardic and Mateo. I had to kidnap Ardic, then use him to coerce his mother to point the finger of blame at Mateo. Only in this way could I keep myself from prison without alerting Errard of my intent to expose him."

"You must think we are fools." Sarevok growled. "Greywulf, can we not merely slaughter this man now?"

"No, Sarevok… not yet." Greywulf shot a harsh stare at the newly worried merchant. "But he's right, Kiser… this seems a farfetched tale. How do I know you are telling the truth?"

"Ah, the eternal curse of the successful merchant. People see my affluence, and are instantly predisposed to doubt me." Kiser sighed, shaking his head as he shrugged. "I have no proof to offer at this time. But I do hold one card yet. If any harm befalls me, I guarantee Ardic will never be found alive. If you desire to aid the Countess, you will help me exonerate myself."

"So you want us to find evidence implicating Errard instead?" Greywulf continued, trying to remind himself that it was his fault they were going through these hoops. Besides... on the off -extremely off- chance he was telling the truth, it wouldn't do to kill him now.

"Alas, such an elementary resolution is not possible." Kiser shook his head. "While Errard lives, he is able to obfuscate investigation into his own actions. Only his demise will allow me to clear my own name."

"Then you want us to kill the wizard." Minsc frowned. He may not have understood most of what Kiser was saying… but he knew he didn't like the man. "Boo does not trust you, little man. Why should we not tell the Captain of your nasty scheme?"

"Without some proof, no one would believe your tale. And it would be extremely detrimental to the health of Ardic." Kiser warned.

"I still say we kill him now." Sarevok snarled, resting his hand on the hilt of the Blade of Chaos.

"You might make the attempt," Kiser said, strangely confident for someone facing four extremely dangerous individual, two of them Bhaalspawn, "But my death will not bring gain to anyone involved. I suggest you save your violent impulses for other individuals. Errard comes readily to mind. Return only once your task is done. Until then, we have nothing further to discuss." he said, gesturing to the door.

Greywulf considered for a moment, then motioned and the others followed him out. As soon as they had left the building, Greywulf glanced back over at the house and reached out with his magic…

"Have they found Ardic yet?" Aerie asked.

"No… I don't sense that they have. But Jaheira was right- they do have some company inside. While I'm almost positive Kiser's lying, we should still ask this Errard some questions."

"Minsc and I can stay here to make sure Kiser doesn't leave if you and Sarevok want to go and find Errard." Aerie suggested.

"All right. If he leaves, follow him. It's possible he's got Ardic somewhere besides the house. We'll question Errard, and I suspect if we're up front about it, he won't have the slightest clue what we're talking about." Greywulf said, ignoring the pointed look from Sarevok saying, 'I told you so.'

Even while the four of them split up even further, Jaheira and Imoen were smashed inside a closet, trying to stay perfectly still as they listened for the guard inside the room to make his rounds and leave. They had found a bedroom and decided to check it out, only to hear footsteps approaching. The only place for them to hide was the closet, and it was barely big enough to fit them both inside. It was mostly filled with merchandise, clothes and the like that Kiser had apparently stored here since the siege.

"Jaheira… can you get your spear shaft out of my back?!" Imoen whispered harshly as she tried to shift a bit.

"Quiet! And no." Jaheira hissed back, peering through the small cracks in the hinges to see the man outside pacing back and forth.

He made one loop around the bed, then left, leaving the room empty once more. They waited for what seemed like an eternity before they were certain nobody was coming, then piled out, boxes of clothing spilling out alongside them. "Next time, I choose the hiding spot." Jaheira coughed, dust rising from the overturned boxes.

"It's not my fault if I'm small enough to fit places you can't." Imoen retorted. "Now, I think it's pretty clear he's not here… we'd better search the rest of the place."

"True… but Kiser might still be down there. You could try an invisibility spell-" Jaheira whispered.

"But there might be purges set up in case of such a spell." Imoen countered quietly.

"You are right. We cannot be caught, or Ardic might die. We have to draw his attention, somehow…" Jaheira murmured, glancing down at the piles of clothing that were scattered about. "A distraction for Kiser… something that would get rid of the guards as well."

"I don't think I like the tone you're getting, Jaheira." Imoen warned. "What're you planning? This isn't some crazy Greywulf-esque idea, is it?"

"Start sorting these clothes." Jaheira said smugly. "We need one pair of men's clothes… and a pair of *ahem* women's garb."

Imoen frowned as she and Jaheira began looking through, her eyes widening as she saw the two outfits Jaheira had finally sorted. "You have gotta be kidding me."

"Not at all." Jaheira replied calmly. "Now quickly, before the patrol comes back. Do you want to be the guard or the dancer?"


	12. Part 1: Who Needs Enemies

Above the city walls of Saradush, a haze of blue and white strobed repeatedly, shimmering and glinting in the noonday sun. White clouds tinged gray with the smoke and ash drifting into the air were little more than indistinct blobs from the opposite side of the haze, and it was nearly impossible to tell if you were looking through some kind of strange filtering of the universe itself, or simply a glass of extremely chalky water. Neither, of course, was the correct answer- the haze was the visual effects of the magical shielding that the wizards of Saradush's rapidly weakening militia were continually strengthening and feeding, keeping the catapults and siege ballistas at bay, which would have decimated their city long before if not for their efforts at restraining the destruction to come.

All around the walls of the city, there stood men and women in the robes of mages and sorcerers, witches and warlocks. Each one stood with their hands raised high, eyes shut and sweat pouring down their faces as they exerted every ounce of their willpower to keep the barrier strong, to keep the invaders out. The shield made a complete bubble around the top of the walls, but it stopped a few feet above the heads of those manning the guard towers, meaning that the guards could fire their arrows down at the ranks of fire giants and soldiers besieging the city, but they were safe from a fiery bombardment from above. Still, they were outnumbered and outgunned, and even though it was a small window to aim for, the arrows of the enemy were numerous, and eventually, both soldier and wizard alike fell prey to the continued offensive.

Striding up the stairway, keeping his head low, Greywulf glanced down the rock-laid path around the walls, looking for the man they sought. Kiser had given them a target... a wizard named Errard. He had told them that the man was a traitor, a double agent that claimed to be working to the defense of Saradush but was truly in league with the enemy, weakening the shields unnoticed. A devious, dastardly scheme that nobody but the merchant had bothered to notice. All in all, they were pretty sure Kiser's story was a load of crap.

Still, on the off chance that he *was* telling some measure of truth, they had moved to investigate, letting Imoen and Jaheira conduct their own secret investigation, hopefully finding the Countess' son and removing one of the main impediments to them simply walking in and kicking Kiser's ass.

Greywulf ducked a low flying arrow that sailed over the walls, darting along the walls with Sarevok close behind. Men crowded along the walls, shooting into the dust and smoke that covered the outside of the city like a blanket. He had no idea how they were aiming… he couldn't see a thing out in the smoke. Still, he kept moving until he reached the main tower, where at the base, a man in large mage's robes stood, his eyes closed and head bowed as ribbons of magic and power flowed from his hands writhing like snakes as they fed the shielding above their heads. Before they could reach his side, two men wearing robes of Fire Resistance blocked their path, eyes narrowed at the sight of so many heavily armed strangers approaching the wizard.

"State your business, strangers! Master Errard shall not be disturbed from his work if you value the safety of this city!" one of them demanded.

"We've business with your 'master,' such as it is." Greywulf replied tersely. "This won't take long- if he's innocent of the charges we've been sent to investigate, then we'll be on our way quick enough."

"Charges?" the other apprentice sneered, before Sarevok snarled and took him by the collar, throwing him to the side and into the other man, knocking them both to the ground. He drew his blade and leveled it at the two men on the ground, regaining their wits as Sarevok held them at bay.

"Their inane prattle would have done nothing more than delay us and further jeopardize Ardic's safety." the Deathbringer retorted as he caught the glare of disapproval sent his way from Greywulf. "Go, speak with the wizard. I shall ensure that these fools do not interfere."

One thing to be said for Sarevok- his methods were blunt, direct, and usually got results. Greywulf exhaled and waved Minsc and Aerie onward with him, the pair flanking Greywulf as he stopped behind Errard, wondering just how to go about contacting the wizard, so deeply entranced in his work- a spectral image of the wizard floated from his body, settling before the three adventurers with an exceedingly cross look.

_"Insolent whelps! How dare you attempt to interfere with my work! Do you know who I am? What it is I have been charged with?!"_

His sudden show of arrogance was enough to take them by surprise for a moment, but Minsc was the first to recover, replying with only a hint of gruffness to his voice as he poked the ethereal visage. "You are the wizard that Kiser Jhaeri told us to kill. He says you are a very bad man who betrays the city. Boo would know what you have to say to this."

Errard's spectral image registered confusion- it disappeared with a snarl as he pointed at the two apprentices lying beneath Sarevok's not-so-tender care. _"Bah! I know of what you speak- release those two that they might take up my role while I explain the matter to you meddling fools."_

Aerie glanced at Greywulf with a look that relayed all of their feelings towards this man. Guilty or not, he was still an arrogant prick. Greywulf exhaled with an attempt to quell his growing frustration and nodded to Sarevok, the warrior letting the two others back to their feet, shuffling past the group with anger, reluctantly taking Errard's place in renewing the shields above while the spectral image vanished, Errard inhaling sharply as his body and spirit rejoined. He spun and faced those who had come to confront him, his darkened eyes glinting with irritation and anger. "So... Kiser thinks he has found others to do for him what he could not? Feh... I will tell you now that the merchant is a piece of gutter trash, nothing more! A cheap conjurer who uses the powers of illusion to make the dregs of society obey his commands and fill his purse. When the defense of Saradush began, he had the nerve to argue for his own advancement as the head of the defenses that I command! Imagine, a mage of his limited power trying to do what I have accomplished so far!"

"You mean to say that Kiser is an illusionist?" Greywulf nodded, understanding. "He might not have been able to defend the city, but he could have made it look like he was... and betrayed the whole city without anyone the wiser."

"Pfeh, the fate of this city matters only upon my reception of the reward I was promised for my service. Should the battle go ill, I shall most certainly not remain to see it through."

"So you're saying that the only reason you stay and help this city is the promise of wealth and power afterwards." Aerie said, disapproval evident in her voice. "You might not be the traitor that we sought, but you are still a thoroughly disgusting man."

Errard sneered at the Avariel, shaking his head in disgust. "Bah! I have heard enough of your ramblings. Leave me to my work, and I shall leave you to whatever inane meanderings you seem intent on pursuing." He returned to his apprentices, leaving the four adventurers to head back to Kiser, ready to confront the lying merchant. Even as Errard's apprentices returned to the mortal realm, allowing Errard to concentrate fully on his protections, they glanced at the four men and women leaving the walls. Kiser would not be pleased when he learned that the Bhaalspawn and his company had left Errard alive, or more so, that they were headed back towards his home. There was little they could do about the Bhaalspawn that Kiser had not already prepared for... but as far as making sure Errard ended up dead, that was something within their means. That's what they were hired to do, after all. The pair of apprentices drew their daggers beneath their robes, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to betray their 'master'...

X X X X X X

Kiser Jhaeri, merchant, illusionist, and traitor to Saradush stood at the entrance to his home, constantly peering through the windows and at the blue haze above the city. He supposed it was foolish of him to assume that the Bhaalspawn might kill Errard immediately; he had not survived so long by being rash. Perhaps he would wait until a stray arrow passed by Errard and use it as an excuse to say that it had, in actuality, struck the wizard. Or maybe a simple friendly-fire incident, where a spell gone awry claimed the life of the arrogant mage.

Regardless, Kiser looked forward to the fruits of the labor he had handed to the oh-so-gullible Bhaalspawn. Assuming Errard was killed, the remaining wizards of Saradush would be under far greater strain to sustain the shielding that was saving the city from a burning death. Even if Kiser's scheme fell through, if Greywulf and his companions saw through his scheme and came to claim their vengeance, he was ready. His two employees, posing as Errard's loyal apprentices, would do the wizard in at the opportune moment, and as for the adventurers... he would prove a tougher opponent than they saw in his simple 'merchant' exterior.

A crashing of glass from the study down the hall got his attention- the thin features across his face tightened as he immediately went for the blade beneath his robes, two guards rushing to his side in the moments after the disruption. He nodded to them and the three moved down the hall quickly and carefully, pausing outside the study door for a moment, listening for movement- the sound of a struggle got their attention, and they all entered only to find... something unexpected.

Imoen tried to keep from looking too uncomfortable in the heavy, baggy cloth that swathed her body and the plate armor that encased her normally lithe body. She could barely move or see under the helmet she was wearing, but then again, that was kind of the point. Kiser knew who Greywulf was... there was a good chance he would know her. Unless, of course, her hair was completely obscured, as was most of her face, and a thick layer of grime and dirt covered everything that was visible. Still, depending on how observant Kiser was or how carefully he screened the guards he hired for his home, there was still the chance that he might recognize her as being out of place. That was of course, why Jaheira was there, to keep him less interested in Imoen and more interested in what Jaheira was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn't wearing.

Imoen was holding Jaheira by the upper shoulders, the druid feigning an attempt to struggle in Imoen's grip, even as her outfit, the traditional garb of a harem girl, drew the attention of all three men who had just entered the room. It left very little to the imagination, and thanks to their rather strenuous lifestyle, Jaheira certainly had the muscle tone and fit figure necessary to pull off the disguise. Whether it worked or not... that would be up to their quality of acting and Kiser's ability to think clearly. "Erm... I found this wench breaking in through the window-" Imoen began, trying to deepen her voice as she continued to hold Jaheira still, praying that this scheme of theirs would work. Surely nobody would be stupid enough to try something like this. No reason to doubt it- even if the glass shards from the broken window were outside, not inside, a dead giveaway that something was up if Kiser looked hard enough.

"Of course this beautiful woman proceeded through the window, do you think my faculties so nearsighted?" Kiser barked, before returning his gaze to Jaheira, his features turning abruptly softer and kinder, as he gestured for the guard to let her go. "Now, be so kind as to inform us why you have imposed yourself upon my property."

"Forgive me- I... my master brought me here from Calimport..." Jaheira purred, her words thick with accent that was usually suppressed, but called back on a moment's notice. "He was killed in one of the explosions that ruin this city and I needed some place to hide. I was so frightened..."

Kiser let a brief smile slip through his features- perhaps the shielding around the city was weakening quicker than he had hoped. And to top all of that off, he had been sent, as though from the gods, a lovely girl to keep him company in the final days before Saradush was reduced to rubble and he received the reward promised him by Yaga-Shura. "And so you sought refuge in my home, breaking your way inside, despite the danger to your own person. An understandable choice, especially when considering the tragic plight of one such as yourself. Please, come with me and I shall endeavor to keep you out of harm's way while you linger here."

Imoen let Jaheira go, meeting her 'frightened' gaze with a brief wink, before shuffling her feet and grunting, "I'll... ah, I'll go keep an eye on the eh, merchandise, Mr. Jhaeri."

Kiser glanced at the guard, nodding as he looked at the other two guards who had accompanied him. "Your fellow stalwart knows his role in a time such as this. One of you join him in the underbelly of this edifice- the other should prepare an unpleasant welcome for any trespassers who might have survived the efforts of the sorcerer Errard."

The guards all shuffled out, leaving Jaheira alone with the merchant, his full attention focused on her. She stood stock still as he circled her slowly, eyes running up and down her body as she tried with all her might to avoid lashing out and punching him in the nose. He leaned over and lifted the translucent red veil around her face, gazing into her piercing green eyes as his other hand ran through her long brown hair. He smiled in what he was almost certain was an inviting, seductive manner. "Perhaps we should retire to a more private room and discuss the arrangements of your stay in my abode?"

"It would be my... pleasure." Jaheira whispered smoothly as she stalked out of the room, Kiser following close behind. Out of his view, her eyes narrowed as she felt his hand touch the small of her back, slowly running downwards- _I could smash his head against the wall. Three or four times and his skull would crack wide open. That wooden support beam right there would work perfectly._

X X X X X X

"So... I haven't seen you around before, 'ave I? Thought Kiser only had eight of us guys." the guard who had accompanied Imoen down into the basement of the house rubbed the back of his neck, squinting in the torch-lit darkness. "Wot's yer name again?"

"Ah... er, Im-ah, Anomen. That's it. Anomen." Imoen finally forced out, feigning her embarrassment at almost slipping up so easily, with a faux coughing fit. "Dust around here gets me something fierce."

"Yeah," the other guard nodded sympathetically. "Me too. I got used to it- boss keeps folk down here often enough it don't bother me no more. You must be new around here, right? Well it'd be a shame if someone didn't greet ya, Anomen. Welcome to the little club, such as it is."

"Er... thanks." Imoen replied, looking left and right, noting the numerous different passageways that stretched out in the 'basement.' "This place is huge- how do ya find yer way around here?"

"Man, ye sure are quick to try and get to work, huh?" the other guard laughed, removing his helmet and setting it on a nearby table as he wiped his nose. He was bald, with one or two scars running across his face, a ring in his left ear. "Yeah, all the new guys are like that. Ye'll learn quick there's no pleasin the boss man... always throwin tantrums and yellin at us hired guys with them big fancy words... we pretty much just do what were told, but look out for each other when Kiser ain't around to ride us for slackin off. If he had his way, we'd never have no breaks or nuthin."

Imoen rolled her eyes under the helmet she was wearing. Of all the guards, she got the talkative one. Just dopey and friendly enough that she'd feel bad for just killing him and going off in search of Ardic. Too persistent to trick into just letting her walk off without him. "Thanks bud... didn't catch yer name..."

"Oh, sorry about that." the guard smiled slowly, extending a beefy hand to Imoen and shaking it hard. "Mashkren... don't bother wit the last name since I done left home. No reason to, after all..."

"Sure." Imoen smiled, and for some strange reason she found herself slightly attached to this friendly, slightly slow guard. Granted, he'd probably try to kill her if she let on who she actually was, but that didn't mean she couldn't like the poor fellow. Didn't seem a bad sort, really. A little reminder that the nameless faces and people they fought on a daily basis weren't all evil monsters... some of them were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, being paid to fight the wrong people. "Still, I should probably know where the prisoner is, huh? In case the boss asks, y'know..."

"Right. Good thinkin..." Mashkren nodded, waving one hand for Imoen to follow him. "This way- be careful, it's pretty easy to get lost down here- boss made it that way on purpose in case anyone found out about this place. I almost wandered around down here for an hour once... had to drop coins behind me to tell where I'd been." he shook his head regretfully, "Lost a whole week's pay like that."

They passed hall after hall, occasionally turning to the left or right as she followed Mashkren through the labyrinthine passages of Kiser's dungeon, the pair stopping a few moments after they'd reached a closed and barred door. The guard thumbed towards it, turning and leaning up against the doorpost, shifting in an attempt to find a comfortable position in his armor. "He's in there- Kiser don't let us guards go in there with him- afraid we'd get bought off by him or sumthin, maybe slip him some food or the like. He's the Countess' son, after all, and I don' hold much for torturing folk. I just guard stuff, and fight who the boss tells me to. Still, I guess so long as Kiser done pay me what he promises, I don' bother asking questions. Am I right?"

"Right." Imoen forced a smile. Wonderful- Kiser really was a paranoid bastard. Again... if only he hadn't hired such a likeable dope for a guard. Imoen took the opposite post and leaned against it, pondering her options. She could try casting a spell to immobilize the man before he could react- something non-lethal- then get Ardic out before it wore off. Still, if she couldn't get it off in time, or if there were other guards down here- a distinct possibility, considering the sheer number of passages and hallways- they might react to the flash of the spell or if Mashkren got off a shout... still, they were running out of time, and she sincerely doubted Jaheira was enjoying herself, wherever she was.

X X X X X X

Four men and women returned to the outskirts of Kiser's dwelling, glancing back and forth at one another, as though deciding whether they were ready to strike. Kiser had proven himself a kidnapper and a liar... with the other charges leveled at him, it was safe to say they would be justified in breaking down the door and conducting a good ol' fashioned frontal assault. Minsc was highly in favor of this approach- at least, once they'd given Imoen and Jaheira enough time to find Ardic and get him to some measure of safety.

"What do you think?' Greywulf asked, peering around the corner of the building that sat across from Kiser's, noting the guards that had taken up positions outside the house, wielding bows and axes. "Two archers, two for close combat... the bows might give us some trouble from this distance."

The sound of another flaming boulder shattering overhead gave them momentary pause, before Sarevok spoke up, his tone unusually venomous. "Kiser suspects, at the very least, that we will return to kill him. We should have acted sooner. Waiting this long puts your fellow companions in jeopardy, as well as Ardic."

"Arguing won't help us now." Greywulf countered calmly, or as calmly as he could manage when speaking with his murderous brother. "I think Aerie and I can neutralize both archers with magic before they can get their shots off. That should give you and Minsc a free run at the axemen..."

"No." Sarevok shook his head, his glowing yellow eyes resolute as he stared the sorcerer down. "The longer we battle outside, the more time Kiser will have to prepare for our attack, perhaps even putting Jaheira and Imoen in jeopardy. Minsc can handle the two of them on his own- I will circle around the house and enter from a side window. Attack them from both front and behind."

Greywulf opened his mouth, about to argue for Minsc's safety, but the ranger simply nodded gravely. "Minsc can handle this. Sarevok's tactics seem wise to Boo."

Aerie bit her lip nervously, then nodded to Greywulf. He considered it a moment longer, trying to figure out anything that could go wrong- divide and conquer. Good tactics. He nodded, gesturing towards the side of the house where Jaheira and Imoen had broken in. "The window over on that side should be unlocked, if you want to take the subtle approach, although I doubt that. We'll wait a minute longer, give the others enough time to do their jobs, then we move."

Sarevok nodded, gripping the Blade of Chaos as Aerie and Minsc crouched at the edge of the building's cover, whispering a few comments and advice to one another. Greywulf simply leaned against the building with his arms folded for a moment, before finally looking at the Deathbringer beside him, garnering his attention with a continued stare.

"What do you want?" Sarevok asked, his voice annoyed, as though Greywulf was a nagging child, distracting him from his pre-battle inner meditation.

"You know," Greywulf said with arched eyebrow as he walked alongside the bigger, heavier man, "You could try being just a bit nicer. It wouldn't kill you."

Sarevok studied Greywulf for a moment, as though trying to decide if he was joking or not. Finally, he snorted and said with a quick glance behind him at the others, "Fine. Is there something you wish to say?"

"Better." the wizard remarked, taking care to keep his voice low and not alert the guards they were prepared to ambush. "Just curious, that's all. You seem to be showing a bit more concern about Ardic, Jaheira, Imoen... other people in general, I suppose, than usual."

"And this concerns you, does it?" Sarevok laughed humorlessly, shaking his bald head. "If my presence or motivations bother you, you only have yourself to blame for it. I yet remain by your side, and that surprises even me. It does not take the power of clairvoyance to see that you do not yet trust me."

Greywulf chuckled, his eyes flitting back and forth between their targets and Sarevok's large, armored form. "Don't tell me you're surprised by this."

"You have grown in power, so I do not expect you to fear me as you once may have. But I do expect the lack of trust, the suspicion that I might betray you." Sarevok pointed out. "If I were you, I would feel so. I confess that it eats away at me as to why you would agree to take me with you and not force some form of compliance from me through an oath. I told you that oaths had real power in our father's realm."

Memories- dark memories- flashed through Greywulf's mind. Visions of friends and allies, betrayed, or dead. Yoshimo... Himself. Too many close encounters, too many near-death experiences brought forth from such oaths of binding. "I don't like enslaving people. Especially with the use of a Geas, or an oath." he ground out quietly. It was all too apparent that the subject was a sore spot for him, so he quickly attempted to cover the topic with a follow-up. "Besides- you'd find a way to break it eventually. I know you, Sarevok. All too well."

"Is that so?" the warrior sneered. "A foolish move, if you speak complete truth. Sacrificing possible peace of mind to satisfy your own ego? Bah! If I did not know better, I would say you actually intend to turn me, to try and make me into one of your sickeningly loyal companions... to redeem me, if the concept were even possible."

The idea, the very concept was enough to make Greywulf cover his mouth, working not to alert the guards with his laughs of disbelief. "You overestimate my patience, Sarevok. And your own value to me. You're an asset, and that's why you're with us. That's all."

"So you allow me to make my own destiny at your side, without an oath of service, and trusting for some unfathomable reason that I will not betray you." Sarevok shook his head with a slight twitch of the mouth. "If your motives are simply self-serving, then tell me this... why would I not sell you to your foes? Your vengeance aside, what keeps me from gaining my revenge the second I felt I had an advantage over you?"

The question was a good one- one that Greywulf had pondered for some time. The truth was, he didn't have an answer. Sarevok was an asset, that much was true. And he held no hopes of Sarevok ever becoming anything more than a despicable murderer... yet he had allowed the man free will as he traveled alongside them. Sure he didn't like oaths of binding, but in this case... one should have been appropriate. Was he truly so naive as to believe that Sarevok deserved a second chance? No. Never.

Greywulf turned to face Sarevok, his voice and eyes hard as stone. "That's just it, Sarevok. You might try and betray me. And if you do, I'll be ready. And I will, without hesitation, send you right back to Hell."

The big man listened- oddly enough, he smiled at Greywulf's words. "Good answer. You might just live to see the end of this war after all."

With that, he hefted his blade and darted under shadow to another building with cover, slowly making his way towards the right side of Kiser's house. Greywulf watched him go, then turned back to the others, both having watched and listened to his dialogue with Sarevok. Their faces were reflections of mistrust and wariness, and Greywulf could not blame them one bit for it. Aerie shook her head slowly, glaring at Sarevok's rapidly disappearing figure. "You can't trust him, Greywulf. He's evil, and I don't think that's going to change..."

"No... no, I don't think it will either." Greywulf smiled weakly in reply, only to jerk as the sound of a window shattering signaled Sarevok's forced entry into the house. He nodded to Aerie and Minsc, gripping his quarterstaff tightly as the guards outside whirled in confusion, ready to charge back inside. "I guess that's our cue..."

X X X X X X

_I could kill him with one strike- a palm to the nose at just the right angle would drive the shards of bone up into the brain. No... have to give Imoen more time. But once she's found the Countess' son... palm to nose, I swear to Silvanus…_

Jaheira's growing anger at the merchant seated a few feet away, ogling her as she moved as rhythmically as she could manage- a dance in lieu of payment for her safety here. Degrading, that's what it was. Still, if it would get Ardic to safety and keep Imoen out of harm's way, the longer she could keep Kiser's attention and thoughts on her and not on the prisoner below or her companions, hopefully coming soon to mete out justice to this despicable wretch, before he got any other ideas about 'payment'-

The sound of glass breaking echoed loudly enough to reach the closed room they were sequestered in, and Kiser immediately snapped from his trance, pushing one hand in his robes, undoubtedly grasping the hilt of a blade hidden within. He forced a smile as he turned to the harem girl, smiling widely. "It seems that intruders have entered my abode once more- please excuse me while I investigate this matter. I shall send one of my guards to your side to ensure your safety in this dangerous occasion."

He flung the door open, and moments later, one of the merchant's big, hulking guards had entered in his place, closing the door and planting himself before it, sneaking half-glances at Jaheira when he thought she wasn't watching. Jaheira rolled her eyes, but hid it quickly, waiting a few moments until she was sure Kiser would have gone wherever it was he was headed... she inhaled sharply, then slunk to the guard's side, tapping him on the shoulder lightly. He turned to her, swallowing heavily as he stuttered, "Y-yes, miss?"

She smiled disarmingly, fixing his gaze with her own- before slamming a palm straight into his nose, shattering it and sending blood gushing from his face. She smiled tightly as she followed the first attack up with cupping both hands to box his ears, grasping his head as he doubled over in pain and slamming his head into her upraised knee. He collapsed to the ground, and Jaheira knelt, grabbing his blade. A scimitar... she'd used them in the past- and Silvanus help Kiser if she caught up with him before her companions did.

Even as Jaheira made her way from Kiser's unconscious and bloodied guard, Imoen and Mashkren were both looking up, listening to the sounds of screaming and explosions of magic occurring upstairs- Imoen more worried than Mashkren could know. She was certain that her friends had arrived, and she was out of time. She had to get Ardic somewhere Kiser couldn't hurt him or use him as a shield, and she had to do it now. Mashkren was the only impediment to that... but she couldn't bring herself to just kill him. Imoen squeezed her eyes shut, prayed to Mask this would work, then turned to the heavy-set man. "Mashkren- I think it's the Bhaalspawn! They've come to get Ardic..."

"Then we gotta protect him for Kiser, right?" Mashkren replied, eyes wide as he hefted his axe. "Let's see 'em get through you and me, eh?"

"Er..." Imoen suppressed the urge to stamp her foot in frustration. Something to get him out of her hair and not kill him... an idea popped into her head and she went for it. Only two incantations and a few hand motions- Mashkren was just turning to ask what she was doing when the Horror spell took effect. A yellow haze covered the guard's eyes, and he screamed at the top of his lungs as he swung his axe once, twice, nearly taking her head off with both swings, before turning and bolting down the passages. _Sorry, buddy... can't let you get in the way. All the guards are probably upstairs, so here's hoping..._

Imoen began the tedious task of picking the lock Ardic was hopefully hidden behind, wishing she had picked Mashkren's pocket for the key before sending him in a panic through the dungeon. His screams still echoed and reverberated across the stone and cobweb-ridden passages- until it suddenly stopped. A brief gagging noise, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Imoen's blood froze... _No! I did that so he *wouldn't* get hurt!_

It was probably one of her companions- but surely they wouldn't be brutal enough to have killed a man who was obviously no threat. And why hadn't they announced themselves? A thought crossed her mind- Kiser, perhaps? He might've been cruel enough to kill his own guard if he thought the man was a liability... regardless, she couldn't take the chance and leave her back exposed. Imoen stalked down the catacombs with her bow in hand, an arrow of acid nocked and at the ready. She crept through the shadows, hiding out of sight whenever possible, until she spotted a trickle of red filling the cracks of the stone floor. Imoen swallowed, stepping out of the light and turning the corner with her bow raised and ready to fire- there was nobody there... just Mashkren lying on his back, blood pooling from beneath him, undoubtedly due to the large sword wound through his torso. His eyes were wide and seemed to be staring at her- fear was etched onto his face, his last emotion before death. Imoen unconsciously stepped away, guilt tugging at her emotions...

A heavy blow landed on the back of her neck, sending her to the ground. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she never saw Sarevok emerge from the shadows, a knowing smirk at his features. It was a shame he had to knock her out, but she couldn't witness what he was about to do. For all she knew, it was another guard, or maybe Kiser himself. He followed Imoen's footprints in the dusty tunnels, finding the cell where Ardic was supposedly held. Glancing behind him to make sure that none of his allies had shown up unexpectedly, he brandished the key he had taken from the guard and unlocked the door, the hinges creaking loudly with the motion. Light shone in, illuminating the haggard and worn man chained to the wall, wincing with fear at the sudden influx of light. His eyes widened as his vision cleared, and he could see that the man entering was not Kiser. "Please... please help me..."

Sarevok studied the young man for a moment- his clothes bore the symbols of the Count Santele, and he was missing a finger from his left hand, the hand wrapped in blood-soaked cloth. "Ardic Santele?"

The son of the Countess nodded excitedly, hope in his eyes for the first time in the many days since he had been abducted by Kiser Jhaeri. "Yes... yes, that is I! You have been sent by my mother? I knew she would not allow my disappearance to go unchecked-"

His words came to an abrupt halt as Sarevok turned around and walked out the door, pausing to kneel and take up the axe that Mashkren had dropped. "I... what are you doing? You are here to free me, right? Sir? Sir!"

Ardic's eyes widened and he would've screamed if he had the chance. As it was, the axe embedded itself in the wall behind Ardic's neck, and the head of Countess Mirnelle's son fell to the floor, rolling to a stop with betrayal written all over his frozen features. Blood spurted from his neck as his heart attempted to pump blood to a path no longer existing- the body would empty itself soon enough, and there would be no way of knowing how soon it had occurred. Sarevok exhaled as he stepped away from the slowly growing pool of crimson in the cell, and then moved to Imoen's limp body. He let himself smile as he imagined Greywulf's reaction when he learned that Ardic had died because he had refused to take the initiative. Refused to act, instead waiting for proof before killing the merchant. A tragic fate for the Countess' son, killed at the hands of Kiser Jhaeri. Or one of his guards. Regardless, had Greywulf done the right thing, had he been aggressive, took action as Sarevok had urged him, Ardic would yet be alive.

He knelt and draped Imoen's unconscious form over his shoulder, slowly trudging back to the battle above. Greywulf would learn. He'd see just how steep the price was for following this 'righteous' path. And when he assumed the Throne of Bhaal, becoming a dark deity of Murder with Sarevok at his right hand, he would admit that Sarevok was right all along.

X X X X X X

A flurry of images, each one carrying a long, green-tinted blade exploded all around Greywulf, sending him stumbling backward, raising an arm to protect himself with a quick shield of magic- just in time, for five different blades hit the shield, cracking it before ricocheting off. He had no idea which of the five images of Kiser had been real- and he and the others were running out of time. What should have been a straightforward battle had turned sour; after fighting through the four guards outside, sustaining only minor injuries, a shallow cut across Minsc's arm and a faint bruise on Greywulf's cheek, they'd broken into Kiser's house, looking for the merchant himself. One more guard had blocked their path, felled quickly by a barrage of flame arrows. Then... Kiser. As it had turned out, the merchant was not quite all he appeared to be.

They'd known he was an illusionist as well as a merchant... but he was far more than that. His skills with the poisoned blade he carried were lethal, and Minsc was already down, only still alive through the constant attentions of Aerie, trying to stop the fast-spreading poison from killing him. He was the only thing between Kiser and the two of his teammates- and the merchant was giving no quarter to the Bhaalspawn.

"Did you think me an easy target, ripe for the sword at your companions' command?" Kiser sneered, two of the mirror images darting in from either side while the other three began casting spells- one of them was real, and he did not have time to check them all before something hit him, whether blade or spell. He let a brief glimmer of concern for Imoen and Jaheira enter his head before shoving those thoughts away, concentrating on the present battle. First things first- the swords moving to impale him from either side. If either attack was real and hit, he'd be down and out, just like Minsc from a slice between the joints of his shoulder armor.

Greywulf spun in place, dropping his quarterstaff to thrust both hands out on either side, waves of magic emitting from both palms. The bursts of magic should have been enough to knock a grown man off his feet- in his case, both men vanished into thin air, nothing more than illusions. That, however, left him wide open for the activation of a burst of magic missiles, shattering the waning shield he had conjured and knocking him to the ground, his chest smoking and burned with the explosions of magic. The world spun all around him as he tried his best to regain some sort of sense- Aerie was putting all her strength into pushing the poison in Minsc back, and she would be completely vulnerable to an attack. They hadn't come all this way, fought through Irenicus, Bodhi and Sarevok just to die from some merchant-

Sarevok? Where was- the sound of a furious, almost laughing bellow managed to bring some manner of clarity back to Greywulf's mind, and he propped himself up on one elbow in time to see Sarevok at Kiser's throat, the Sword of Chaos raining blows down upon the fighter-mage, all mirror images dispatched. His chest still hurt like he'd been hit by an ogre's fist, but he tried to speak the words to a spell, only for the magic to fizzle in his hands. Still too weak from the impact-

Kiser snarled, spinning once as he deflected the side-swing of the Deathbringer, only to raise a hand and shout the trigger to a simple spell of blindness- light shone all around, Greywulf covering his eyes just in time. Sarevok howled in frustration as he stumbled back, swinging the blade and blinking madly, trying to restore his vision. Kiser waited patiently, watching Sarevok's blade, just hoping to find that moment where he could sneak in and land a mortal blow- a flurry of motion at the corner of his eye spurred him to dodge, and it was just in time. The scimitar Jaheira was wielding sliced through the space his head had been occupying just a moment prior, and had it landed, it surely would've split it like a melon. His lip curled as he spat in disgust. "So, it would seem that the lovely woman I sought to seduce is another assassin! One more shall make little difference in the final accounting-"

"Shut up." Jaheira said grimly, her outfit billowing around her as she pressed an attack, the sound of steel on steel ringing through the room as each fighter strove to gain the upper hand, also avoiding the wild swings of Sarevok, still trying to overcome his blindness. A blinding swing cut a chunk of flesh from Kiser's leg as he stumbled backwards, cursing furiously. Jaheira shot him a withering smile before charging, preparing to end it. Kiser barked a laugh and activated a Spell Trigger- another Kiser Jhaeri appeared, this one more than a simple mirror image. A Simulacrum- a dangerous spell to deal with, especially on her own. The pair sneered in contempt, voices echoing at once. "You cannot kill us both!"

Both charged with swords upraised, Jaheira backpedaling in an attempt to find a way of dodging or blocking both downward swings- Greywulf forced out the incantation he'd been murmuring, finally containing the shaky magics as a bolt of lightning leapt from his hands, striking the man on the left, stopping him in his tracks, convulsing with the strike. The other paused for a split-second, taken by surprise... a fatal mistake, as Jaheira turned her back-motion into a forward lunge, impaling the second Kiser on her scimitar. The man on her blade looked down in shock, blood trickling from the side of his mouth as he slid off, the Kiser who had been convulsing from the lightning strike vanishing into thin air. As his chest ceased its rise and fall, slowly but surely, Sarevok strode over, his blindness vanishing along with Kiser's life force. "Heh... so you tried to betray Saradush to its enemies and failed," he chuckled. "Schemes to destroy a city are never as simple as they first seem, are they? I learned that hard lesson at Baldur's Gate."

Across the room, beneath the shade of the once fine decorations of the merchant's home, now spattered with blood and splinters of wood, Aerie helped a still sickly looking Minsc to his feet as the pair stumbled over to the group, all huddled around the body of Kiser Jhaeri.

"You made it just in time..." Greywulf breathed, nodding to Sarevok and Jaheira with gratitude. Grudges or not, his brother had saved his life. As for Jaheira... "Um... ah, Jaheira? Why exactly are you... ah... wearing-"

"Do *not* say a word." the druid glared, the look in her eyes shutting any further questions up. "Where is Imoen? Did any of you see here yet?"

"I found her below, in Kiser's dungeon of sorts. I brought her back up and put her in that room before coming to your aid." Sarevok intoned, gesturing down the hall. "She had been knocked unconscious by one of the guards- I killed him and took the keys to Ardic's cell, but..."

Greywulf's breath froze as he listened, knowing what Sarevok was about to say, knowing the feeling of failure that was about to come to rest upon him. "But we were too late. He's dead, right? How long-"

Sarevok shook his head, and Greywulf couldn't help but think there was a hint of condemnation in his features. "Perhaps a few hours prior, judging from his wounds."

Greywulf's shoulders sagged, looking down at the dead man, and he suddenly wanted to spit on the corpse, wanted to stab it with the man's own blade. They'd been too late... another innocent dead, and the damnable part of it all was that it could have been helped. If he'd acted sooner... maybe-

"Greywulf... you couldn't have known." Aerie said quietly, "It's not your fault..."

"Oww.... what happened?" Imoen's voice, pained and in obvious discomfort, wafted into the room as she stumbled in, looking up with her hair still tied back, her face still dirtied and made up, the helmet and armor still sagging off her. Despite the seriousness, the tragedy of the situation, Aerie could not help but let laugh.

"Imoen? Why are you dressed like a man?"

Imoen only sighed and followed Jaheira, rubbing the dirt and makeup off her face as the two headed back to where they had stashed their armor and clothing.

"I do not understand." Minsc muttered helplessly as he leaned against a wall, sweat rolling down his face from the sickness that had so recently befallen him.

"Neither do I, Minsc…" Greywulf sighed weakly, trying to push the feelings of guilt from his mind and enjoy the victory, such as it was, they had earned. "Sometimes it's better not to ask. We'd best get back to the Countess after the women return... she'll want to know what happened to her son."

Unseen by any of the others, Sarevok smiled darkly.


	13. Part 1: It's Always the Quiet Ones

_Author's Note: Okay, so I've had this chapter ready since Saturday, but has been messing up lately when I try and post chapters, so you might've seen this up for a few seconds before it went down again. Either way, hopefully it will upload properly and send out the e-mail alerts this time... _

The Tankard Tree, last of the standing taverns in all of Saradush, had seen more business through its doors in the last weeks of the siege than it had seen in all the years of its business. It didn't matter that the wine and the high-class drinks were gone. It didn't matter that what was left, the cheap ales and beers, had been watered down even further than normal to keep the supply lasting as long as possible. It was simply a place to come and drink and forget, for a moment the troubles that literally surrounded the city. To wait for the inevitable end, in the company of others, similarly awaiting their fates.

People who had once been strangers, simple townsmen willing to live their own quiet lives, huddled in their own quiet bubbles and not needing or wanting invasion of that personal privacy, found themselves talking and sharing and comforting those who had been nameless and faceless not a few days prior. It would have been inspiring if not for the sense of doom and desperation that continued to linger over everything. The sense of defeat that had settled in and would make any sort of attempts at fighting the invaders off useless. The siege would succeed... it was just a matter of when.

Of course, not everyone was taking it so easily. Not everyone was helpless- the six men and women scattered around the bar were a fine example. For once, the six were not huddled together, quietly planning a mission, or discussing the tactics of their next move. Not sharing old memories and fond stories of their past companions. No time for that- and besides, there wasn't a lot of time for reminiscing these days. Tactics though... there was time for that. And they'd been discussed all right.

Aerie and Imoen stood near the back of the bar, the girls draped in the shadows that the dimly lit area provided. Aerie's elven eyesight allowed her a slightly keener perspective on the room than Imoen, and so she murmured slightly every now and then, informing Imoen of anything she felt might have been relevant to their task. Imoen dusted a few pieces of ash and dirt from her shirt, the usual emerald color of her elven splint mail covered by a dirty brown tunic. Wouldn't do for their prey to know just what they were capable of, after all. "You sure there's nothing yet? I'm gettin' kinda sleepy..."

Aerie glanced at Imoen, the thief-mage letting a cat-like yawn erupt from her before quickly settling back down, trying to stay alert. The elf couldn't really sympathize... not needing to sleep had its benefits, though Aerie had long since given up Reverie for a more human like slumber. Too many bad memories that she'd have just as soon forgot- still, exhaustion was setting in for her as well. "Sorry... I don't see anything." Aerie said with a hint of regret. "M-maybe they won't be here tonight?"

"Meh... try telling that to Greywulf." Imoen shook her head, nodding toward the grey-cloaked figure seated at the bar, his back to everyone else. To anyone watching, he was just another man drowning his worries and sorrows in liquor. A complete facade that hid the true power and wariness lying beneath those weary shoulders. "The cleric said they were vampires. Vampires only come out at night..."

"So we're sitting here, waiting for the courtesans to show up at three in the morning." Aerie finished, blinking in an attempt to fight off the sudden urge to yawn. "N-now look what you've made me do..."

"Heh." Imoen grinned, watching the elf try to fight the contagious yawn- to no avail. Her gaze drifted back to Greywulf, noting his quick glance behind him, their eyes meeting for only a half-second before he went back to his drink, which was probably lukewarm and only half drained. It was always this way when they met with any kind of failure- Greywulf got twice as focused and twice as serious- all traces of mirth and humor would disappear for a while, at least until the sorcerer felt he had earned the right to those feelings again. Or that's the way Imoen saw it, at least.

"Did he say how it went with the Countess?" Aerie asked quietly, and Imoen could only shake her head regretfully.

"No... but maybe that's just as well, ya know... hearing that after everything, her son got his head taken off by an axe... I don't think anyone'd take that news well. At least Mateo was freed. Some 'victory,' huh?"

At one of the few booths sat a man far too large not to attract attention were he standing, and the smaller form of a half-elf. Minsc and Jaheira's faces were barely illuminated by the candle sitting on the table between them, and they watched one another's backs as they sat, looking and waiting for their quarry to show up.

"No sign of them." Jaheira muttered, her bronze skin gleaming in the flickers of the candle. "And yet... I can still feel the presence of something unnatural. Something inhuman..."

Minsc's eyes were narrow as they flickered back and forth, his senses at full alert. The ranger was at his most dangerous now... a giant knot of muscles, a cobra coiled and waiting to strike. When Minsc could be persuaded to sit down and let his senses do the work rather than his sword... he was good. Jaheira watched him for a moment, feeling a hint of admiration. "You feel them too..."

He nodded, and then looked over at the bar, this time at the enormous warrior sitting a few seats down from Greywulf. "Evil is here."

Jaheira followed his gaze, then smirked for a moment before letting her serious exterior return. "Perhaps, but he is not the evil we seek tonight. I am glad, though, that you have not lowered your guard around that abomination. He will move against us soon enough... we must be prepared."

Minsc considered that for a moment, then shifted his body, the sound of his plate mail grinding lightly adding to the background rumble of conversation against the thrum of explosions upon the shield above the city. "Evil, yes. But there is something strange about him. Boo can sense it too- it as though he is Sarevok... and not Sarevok. It makes Minsc nervous."

His words drew an arched eyebrow from the druid- he simply shrugged and returned to watching the tavern. She shook her head slightly and renewed her vow to keep their new 'companion' under watch every moment of the day and night. When he tried to kill them- emphasis on tried- she'd be there to stick her dagger in his heart.

The seats between Greywulf and Sarevok were empty as the two brothers sat at the bar- even the bartender gave them a healthy bit of room. Maybe it was their group's numerous altercations in the bar with Gromnir's soldiers, or just the plain sight of Sarevok's eyes glowing gold in the darkness, but nobody dared get between the two, or even next to them. It didn't help that they didn't like each other. So it might have been a surprise, had anyone been close enough to hear, when Greywulf spoke to Sarevok without looking, in a tone that was almost... cordial.

"You can say it, you know."

Sarevok glanced at the wizard, before turning the other way, watching the entrance to the bar carefully. "And what might that be, brother? I never quite know what to expect from you."

"You know well enough." Greywulf spoke calmly. "You were right about Ardic and Kiser. We should've moved sooner and my hesitation might've cost him his life." Even as he felt the words leave his mouth, Greywulf prepared himself, steeled his ego and his spirit for the barrage of sneering, spiteful comments that Sarevok could send his way. He supposed it was just something he's have to get used to, something that as long as Sarevok was part of their little band, would be a permanent fixture anytime his more restrained methods failed to yield the results that Sarevok's might've.

If it were just him and his ego at stake, he could handle it. But when innocents got involved, when his mistakes cost other people their lives... that's where he started getting edgy. Started reconsidering his options. Started- and if Jaheira knew what he was thinking, he'd get an earful- actually listening to what Sarevok was saying. Not that he was ready to jump feet-first onto the caravan headed toward murderville, but the man knew how to get results, that was for sure. If he could take Sarevok's advice... then twist it, maneuver it to fit his own ways and ends? That might be worth it.

"Hmm. And what would this do, should I acknowledge your gesture of humility? Gain me the satisfaction of saying, 'I told you so?' A hearty pat on the back and self-congratulation over my own self-worth? Surely you don't think me so conceited, brother. Simply take note of what is staring you in the face next time, and I shall be satisfied." the warrior spoke, ending his words with a drink.

That was... unexpected. Haughty Sarevok he could handle. Crazy Fratricidal Sarevok he could kill. But Begrudgingly Magnanimous Sarevok was a new one, and slightly more off-putting than the other two, really. Greywulf was about to say something else, when the scent of perfume caught his nostrils. He sniffed again, making sure he hadn't imagined it... no, it was real. He took a quick glance at the door, sneaking a peek at several men and women slipping into the door, their faces indistinct in the darkness, but their manner of clothing spoke to a profession that made certain that any potential customers got an eyefull. They slid- glided almost, the way their feet barely seemed to touch the wooden slats of the floorboards- to the back rooms of the tavern, each one displaying themselves for the patrons of the inn, like merchandise on display at an auction.

Greywulf almost breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the courtesans- he had feared for a time that they wouldn't show up. The party had been through a lot over the last twenty-four hours, and sleep had not been a part of it. The worst part was that if their attempts at using the courtesans to get inside the castle worked out, they wouldn't be sleeping for some time yet. Especially if these men and women proved to be the undead Nosferatu that Sister Farielle had claimed them to be. There was, of course, one good way to find out. Greywulf looked back down the tavern bar towards the shadowed section where Imoen and Aerie were watching. Aerie saw his look, and nodded in reply. She turned her gaze toward the courtesans and murmured the words to a spell- her normally blue eyes suddenly flashed red as infravision settled in, and the world became a blur of blue and red and orange, the heat from everything and everyone washing together into a new, confusing world. Imoen looked at the confused, slightly afraid expression on Aerie's face- suddenly so much less innocent with those glowing red eyes, she noted- and took her by the arm, trying to give her a focal point. "S'all right, Aerie- I'm still here. What do you see?"

"It's... it's really hard." Aerie whispered, blinking rapidly as she tried to adjust. "I'm trying to filter out the a-ambient heat from the siege outside. It's much worse than usual..."

Imoen nodded in realization, cursing this oversight in their plan. They'd gotten accustomed to the intense heat in the city because of the siege outside and the constant fireballs exploding above and sometimes inside the city. They were sweating all the time now... but they'd forgotten how much this might throw off the effects of her heat detecting spell. It wasn't the end if this little maneuver failed... it was just a quick and painless way of determining if the courtesans were really undead. There would be other ways... a smile crept onto Aerie's face, and Imoen felt her faith in the Avariel swell. She knew the elf could do it.

The shapes were slowly becoming distinct, as she began deciphering which colors were hotter, what shapes were people and what was simply ambient heat... and right across the room, where the courtesans were standing, were six or seven completely dead spots, cold as the grave, so to speak. Aerie spoke a few words, dispelling the effects of her spell, then exhaling with a nod to Imoen. "I guess that's step one, right?"

"Right." Imoen nodded with a quick thumbs-up to Greywulf, flashed so quickly that nobody else in the bar would've caught it. "Step two... where it gets tricky. Usually the most fun too, heh..."

"I'm not so sure this time around..." Aerie said with a shiver, letting her eyes adjust once more to the regular spectrum. Greywulf would be sending the signal to Minsc and Jaheira now- and then would come the dangerous bit. Finding out how the vampires were getting out of the 'sealed' dungeon of the castle wasn't something that would just come up in normal chit-chat. And a Domination spell was going to be hard to use on a vampire- even harder if said vampire was surrounded by six of his or her comrades. Fighting in the tavern would just get innocents killed... so that left one option. Arguably the insane option, but the only option nonetheless. Looking for a good time? Perhaps.

Sister Farielle had said that they had only taken a few 'customers' back per night... maybe they were being cautious, not wanting to invite trouble, trying to stay quiet while the city was occupied with the siege. Regardless, just as it would look suspicious if all six of them were standing and watching them as they entered, it would look just as bad if they all came over and asked for a good time, or Helm forbid that five of them just wanted to come along and watch. One of them, at most two, would have to court these undead, get taken back to the crypts, find out where and how they'd been brought in, then get out and tell the others. Oh, and surviving would be good too.

They hadn't decided which of them would be the one to go yet, but they'd split the holy water they were given into six small vials so that all of them had a bit for use if need be, and each one had a stake on their person. All of them were capable- but this situation wouldn't be easy. They were used to going it as a team, with perhaps Sarevok as the exception. Perhaps it made him the perfect choice for this opportunity-

Imoen elbowed Aerie with concern as one of the male courtesans, wearing a sleeveless vest and tight black pants strode to them, his hair slicked back and a tantalizing smile across his face. He bowed slightly to the two girls as he approached, before eyeing Aerie with unmistakable lust. Lust for what... that was a matter of debate. "I could not help but spy your gaze falling upon me for some time, miss. Does my body interest you for the night? Surely you wish to avail yourself of some pleasure in trying times such as these?"

Aerie swallowed- this was... unexpected. She knew Imoen was standing right there, and she could probably convince the man and his vampire brethren to take both of them- but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was the one. She should, no, needed to be the one to go- her skills as both a cleric and a mage, her elven senses in the darkness... her un-intimidating features, perfect for getting the vampires to lower their guard. Almost without realizing what she was doing, she stepped forward, leaving Imoen behind and smiled as innocently as she could manage. "That sounds wonderful... what did you have in mind?"

The courtesan smiled back, and Aerie could have sworn she saw the points of his teeth glimmer in the torchlight.

X X X X X X

Humans. For a species usually so impulsive, so quick to say and do and take what they willed, they could be incredibly hesitant sometimes. It was normal for elves, dwarves, even halflings and gnomes to take a little more time, to examine their choices, to use the long lives and experience they'd been gifted with to make certain that their choices, their words were the correct ones. Rare to find impulsive elves. That was the domain of the humans- living for so short a time, they had to move quickly, learn quickly... everything had to be quick. So when both Anomen Delryn and Reynald de Chatillon had remained seated, sipping their drinks with nary a word or pleasantry between them, Solaufein could do naught but roll his eyes and fold his broad arms. He had been expecting something interesting- this was boring, and if the squire was unwilling to initiate the repentance he professed, then he would simply have to spur it onward.

"Reynald... Anomen spoke to me of your past." the drow said, matter-of-factly. "Tell me... how has the life of a guard treated you thusly?"

Such a casual, seemingly uncaring comment about what was undoubtedly a sensitive issue drew an aghast glance from Anomen, and a surprised jerk from the former knight. "I... I see. I suppose I should have known that my history would not have been... let go so lightly. I... perhaps this was a poor choice-"

Anomen glared harshly at Solaufein before turning to Reynald with an apologetic smile on his bearded features. "Please, sit. I spoke of your past to Solaufein at his request- not to denigrate you as you might believe. Much has happened since we last met, Reynald... I have changed, just as you have done as well."

Reynald paused, and then sat back down with a shake of the head. "I appreciate your... kinder tone, than what you showed me previously, though I doubt you have known the failures and shame I have. You are a Knight of the Order, *Sir* Anomen... I am what I am, and you know it well."

The smile across Anomen's face turned to one of regret, and almost bitter apprehension. "The 'sir' is unnecessary, Reynald. Where once I looked down upon you for your transgressions, it is only by the slightest of hopes that I yet remain a squire. And no longer a Knight, that much is certain."

For the next hour, Anomen spoke of everything that had transpired between him and the Bhaalspawn, the battles, the relationships, the problems he had faced with his family, and his attempted murder of Saerk in retaliation for the death of his father and sister. As he spoke, his posture lost that proud gleam, that distinctive haughtiness to his stance that had never left, even as his personality had lost some of the bite and self-righteousness that had been his bane for so long. Solaufein watched and listened, also curious of what Greywulf and Imoen had been up to since he had left their company. A Planar Sphere in the middle of the Slums- a murderer in the Bridge District, skinning men and women to... do what? Make coats of armor out of them? Helping prevent a war between the Temples of Talos and Lathander... they'd certainly kept busy in between helping Suldenesselar rebuild.

When Anomen finally finished his tales, for once filled with humility and penitence rather than swagger and boasting, Reynald said nothing. He simply leaned back in his chair and ran one hand through his blonde hair, shaking his head in near-disbelief. "I see. To tell you the truth, I would have scarce believed any tale you told some time ago. But... but you have changed, that much is clear. The very fact that we are sitting together now is testament to that fact. I am sorry to hear of what happened to your family- I had not known."

"Thank you Reynald... and pray think no more of our past, now that we know one another's faults and failures." Anomen said, straightening up once more. "If you can forgive me my own hubris, then I should be proud to call you my ally and friend once more."

"As you say." Reynald smiled, and shook the gauntleted hand offered him, only for another awkward silence to slip between the two. Anomen shook it off by turning to Solaufein with a barked laugh, "You've been rather quiet since forcing us to speak, eh? Have you nothing to say?"

The drow let a hint of a smirk show before shrugging and continuing, "I asked a question earlier, did I not? I don't believe it was ever answered."

Reynald's brow knitted for a moment, before he nodded with a smile. "Yes, of course... it is well enough, I suppose. As you might tell by my posting in the docks, the other guards think ill of me, but I understand their disdain. 'Tis not something I blame them for- I only hope to earn their trust in the coming days. Difficult enough to fight alongside one you trust, much less one you do not. I am... I am not certain that this job is what I am truly seeking. It allows me to make use of the skills I spent a lifetime trying to achieve, but... I miss the companionship of the Order, the feeling of trusted brethren fighting side by side in battle."

His words sparked an idea within Anomen; the squire leaned forward with excitement, brown eyes locked on Reynald. "Perhaps it is time you moved on then? The life of an adventurer might suit you well enough, and the quest Solaufein and I are embarking upon could use another sword-hand, if you are willing to lend it!"

Solaufein smiled- he'd been waiting for this ever since Anomen had told him of their past together. He knew Anomen would invite the former knight on their journeys, just as he knew Reynald would, after some time denying his usefulness and proclaiming his duties as a guard, would eventually say yes and join them. Sometimes overthinking and analyzing the situations so long before speaking took the excitement out of things. Not everything though... some things were just too spontaneous, too unpredictable to get boring. Certain people embodied this more than others, he'd found... Phaere was one. She'd never ceased to amaze him, to surprise him... or at least, before she'd been turned into that monster who had perished under the wrath of the Demon Lord. Imoen was another one, much like Phaere...

"Solaufein-?"

The drow was suddenly made aware that both men were staring at him, as though waiting for him to say something. "Hmm? Excuse me... you were saying?"

"I said that if Reynald is to come with us, he should know just what we'll be facing." Anomen replied smoothly, though none of the three men at the table missed the questioning look that the squire had sent Solaufein's way.

"Of course." the drow nodded, back to his quiet, imposing self once more. "Let's get started then. What exactly do you know of Watcher's Keep?"

X X X X X X

Staying calm, that was the key. Passing through the darkness of the night sky, clouds and ash obscuring what little could be made out above the hazy shielding above... it was clearer than before, Aerie thought. That was bad- it meant the wizards supporting it were weakening. Once the magic barrier fell, the city would fall soon after. "Stay close, pretty one..." the vampire courtesan whispered, glancing behind him at the elf, flashing another smile her way. "It's just a bit further... trust me- we use this place so that our customers can have some privacy... you'll get your money's worth, that I promise you."

Aerie tried to smile and nod in response as the two of them continued through the streets, passing abandoned buildings, slowly making their way toward a run-down tower that had once stood above the jails, brick and masonry crumbling around the base. Despite all appearances, there was a distinct doorway in the side, still upright and closed. Aerie was slightly taken aback- the cleric had said that she'd sealed the jails with both key and magic. Most of the time, when wards were tied to a physical lock, they didn't weaken enough to allow passage without the proper key- the courtesan removed a slender key from his pocket, flashing it once with a grin before slipping it into the lock.

"These... t-these are the jails, aren't they?" Aerie said, trying to keep a measure of confidence in her voice and keep from showing just how afraid she really was. "Aren't they dangerous?"

Her escort turned to look at her, a laugh in his voice that would have held nothing but benevolence for any unsuspecting onlooker- to Aerie, she could veritably hear the sarcasm in his voice as he spoke. "Oh, do not be afraid, sweet Aerie... I promise you will be safe in my arms tonight. Some of my fellows are following behind us- we have but one key, so I shall remain here to let them in. Simply follow the lit path once you are inside, and I will be with you in moments."

Aerie smiled- taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, fighting the urge to tense up as she heard the door swing shut and lock behind her. So the vampires had acquired the key somehow... Farielle said that after the Count had been exiled, the key had probably gone to Gromnir. Had he given it to them? Perhaps they'd stolen it from him? No, that didn't make sense... she was missing something important, and after she escaped from the trap she was almost certainly being led into, she'd have to find out just what that was. She just hoped that Imoen, following them out from a distance, had managed to keep an eye on them without being spotted by the other vampires. Like they'd predicted, the whole lot was heading back now that they had her in their trap.

The inside was still dark, but a great deal of effort had been put into fooling their victims- carpet had been laid and torches had been positioned to give the impression of sultry lighting. Rooms that had almost certainly been the offices and administrative rooms of the jail now had blankets and nests of pillows inside- men and women were in each one, smiling hungrily at her as she kept moving- if all of these were vampires, then there were far more than she had thought. Than any of them had thought. Aerie steeled herself and kept moving, following the torch lit path, even as she heard the sound of the locked door behind her swing open- the rest of the vampires had arrived. She kept moving, finally coming to a cell made up with a full bed and table, as though it were going to be anything more than a bleeding ground for a victim. If she looked carefully at the stone blocks comprising the floor, she could see dried crimson in the cracks.

A blur of motion caught her attention as the courtesan she had followed here swept into the cell, closing the door with a gentle swing of his hand. "Ah... I'm sure you do not need me to tell you how lovely you look in the veil of shadow..."

"A flatterer..." Aerie said as sweetly as she could manage, shifting in her robes, letting one hand slide down to grasp the wide end of the stake hidden under the oversized mage robes she wore. "Though I can't help but wonder... I had heard this place was sealed and could only be accessed by the key that the Count of Saradush had? How is it that you and your companions come by it?"

The vampire laughed, but this time it was much less benevolent, a hint of malice behind it as he leaned in, sliding his hands over her shoulders and up toward her neck. "Such a curious little thing, aren't you... don't you know what happens to little girls who are curious?"

Aerie looked into the vampire's eyes, saw the intent, and knew she was out of time. There would be no villain's exposition from him before he struck and brought her corpse to the others to feed... which left but one option. Aerie tensed, unable to move her head or neck in the vampire's vise like grip. He snarled and opened his jaws, ready to sink his fangs into her teeth- he jerked to a stop, eyes widening with the sudden intrusion of something wooden and pointed into the shriveled black thing that had been his heart. He looked down and saw a wooden stake plunged into his chest, and he had just enough time to howl in agony before crumbling into dust, leaving behind ash and his clothing. Aerie knelt and hurriedly fished through his pockets, looking for the key he had used to enter the jails... it was gone?

She stood with a fright, knowing that his howl would have alerted the others- she bolted for the cell door, swinging it open and running down the hall back toward the exit as fast as she could manage, not looking to the left or right as vampires snarled and emerged from the 'bedrooms' all along the hall, giving chase. Her heart felt as though it would burst from its chest as she finally skidded back into the main office area of the jails, back by the entrance- she tugged in desperation at the door, but to no avail. It didn't budge and all she could do was turn in despair as dozens of vampires emerged into the room, stopping as they clustered around her, back to the stone and brick mortar. She held the wooden stake in one hand and nothing else- she'd left the Flail of Ages off her person, being too bulky to hide easily. All she had left was her magic... which was to say, quite a bit.

One of the vampires who had been in the tavern as a courtesan barked a laugh, baring his claws as he hunched in position to leap. "Foolish girl... trapped in here with us, all alone!"

He leapt at her, the first in the wave of darkness- a blinding light shone all around her and the vampire screamed in pain, rolling with burns all over his body as he crumpled away, dissolving into mist, too weak to maintain his form. The other vampires, lowering their arms to shield themselves from the blinding light, no longer saw a scared elf, cowering before them. She was standing her ground, palms together and fingers clasped, chanting as she spoke the words to turn the undead- the pupils of her eyes were white as she stared them down, the vampires hissing and spitting with malice, unable to approach. Without warning, she stopped and shouted a word of Power, a Sunfire igniting all around her and driving them back even further. When they were able to look up once more, Aerie was floating above the ground, mist and light swirling around her as she called upon the full might of her clerical powers. A Bolt of Glory erupted from an outstretched hand with a boom of holy power, impaling one of the vampires and sending him to oblivion. Aerie spoke, her voice echoing throughout the room. _"Perhaps you have misjudged just who is trapped in here with who..."_


	14. Part 1: Trust No One

"We should never have let her go it alone." Greywulf muttered, veritably pacing outside the locked door that led into the Castle dungeons. They'd followed the vampires there once the courtesans had all taken their leave, and were waiting for Aerie to open the portal for them so they could continue as one. Or at least, that had been the plan. It had been almost ten minutes since Imoen had watched the door shut, the last of the undead slipping inside. She'd fetched the others, and they'd come as quick as they could- but no Aerie. "I should have been the one-"

"Neither you nor Imoen could have risked your lives to do this, and we all know that." Sarevok cut him off, a sternness to his voice that was not as harsh as usual- perhaps out of mutual concern for their companion? No... he was never so sympathetic to the others. "Both of you are too involved in the prophecies of Bhaal to be risked in something so trivial in comparison. Our lives are expendable. Yours are not."

"Expendable?" Imoen asked with a hint of both rage and shock as she walked to face Sarevok closely. "Aerie's my friend, and if anyone here is 'expendable,' I'd say it's you!"

_The vampires had hesitated for a brief moment upon seeing the power that this little elf cleric commanded- but only for a moment. With howls of fury and bloodlust, they charged forward, unrelenting and legion in number. Aerie's eyes narrowed- she had hoped that an overwhelming display of power would be enough to discourage the army of undead from attacking. As it was, for all her bravado, they were pushing her into a battle she wasn't sure she could win._

_Two were nearly on top of her, one in midair with claws outstretched for her throat, the other hunched and ready to take her legs out from under her. An admirable attempt to come from two areas, hoping that one would get her if the other didn't. Of course... that's what Contingency spells were for, right? The moment one of their cold, clammy fingertips touched her skin, magical energies crackled around her and she was enveloped in the power of a Mantle spell, rendering her body immune to every claw and fang that tried to strike her. Even as more and more vampires hurtled towards her, she began chanting, trying to finish her spell before the effects of her protection wore off- there._

_A brown skull appeared in Aerie's slender hands, and she let a smile creep across her face as she hurled it at her feet._

"Let's get it straight, Sarevok." Greywulf said with steel in his tone. "Think whatever you like, but nobody here gets thrown to the wolves in my stead. I can't imagine you'd be so quick to call yourself an asset to be used and discarded if it meant prolonging my existence."

"Bah! You still fail to see the larger picture." Sarevok sneered in reply. "Of course my life is secondary to your own! You have resurrected me once- your powers may be up to the task of doing it a second time. You, however... should you die, what is left for me? Whose power shall I share from if not yours? Our sister will surely not take the Throne of Blood for her own."

"And what makes you think Greywulf would do so?" Jaheira asked, the usual venom in her voice when dealing with Sarevok, but in this instance her tone possessed less vitriol and more... fear?

"Because we are kin." Sarevok smirked, glancing once at Jaheira before folding his arms and turning back to the glowering half-elf. "And I know the lust that lurks in his heart. For it once lurked in mine... and it will not be sated until it is fed. Or he meets his end."

_Several bodies fell to the ground, shriveled husks of dead flesh that blew away in the darkness. Aerie was left standing alone where once a dozen Nosferatu had attempted to claim her, a feat worthy of song and tale by any bard. Her eyes faded to their normal blue, and she suddenly felt very much more alone, now that the adrenaline was slowly draining away. She could feel each thud of her heart pumping, beating against her chest like a drum as she forced herself to try and calm down. She had been victorious after all- all that she needed to do now was find the key to the door behind her in all the rags lying at her feet. _

_She knelt, still glancing upwards every few seconds in case another ambush came her way- and one surely would, if this jail was as big as Sister Farielle had claimed. Why the other vampires hadn't swarmed yet was still something of a mystery, but one she'd be happy to let the others solve alongside her if she could just find that blasted key-_

_"Looking for this, my dear?"_

_A silky smooth voice caught Aerie's attention as her head shot up, spying an outstretched hand from the darkness with a golden key twinkling inside the palm. The hand, gray in pallor and clawed at the nails, closed as the full figure stepped out into the light to where Aerie could see him. He was a tall man, with jet black hair that was slicked back into a ponytail. A black cloak with red trim flowed behind him and he was dressed in finery that was unsuited for such a place. His red eyes flashed in the darkness and he smiled broadly, his fangs showing far too easily. _

_Despite this imposing figure, Aerie swallowed her fear and stood to her full, if unimposing, height. "I seek that key, yes. Turn it over to me and I will not harm you."_

_The vampire laughed, tucking the key into a breast pocket of the crimson vest he was wearing. He stepped backwards, disappearing into the shadow once more- and with the rush of air, Aerie whirled, looking for the attack to come- a blur caught her eye and she drew her stake, thrusting it out in hopes of catching her opponent unaware- an iron grip caught her wrist, and she looked up in despair at the vampire's pale, cold features, inches away from hers. "That was... ill-advised."_

_A palm planted on her chest gave a firm push, augmented by the strength of the vampire; she flew into the metal door behind her, thudding against it before sliding to the ground in pain. Her shoulder was numb from the blow- any harder and her bones would have shattered. She looked up, mentally wondering if she could get a hold of the vial of holy water under her robes without him noticing. Or before he killed her._

_"I admit, when I first saw you enter our domain I thought little of you. My greatest concern was how well one so... small, as you would feed our brethren. You are certainly not the type to be pulled in by our courtesan bait." the vampire said, his tone made all the more menacing by how calm, collected, relaxed he sounded. _

_"I k-killed a dozen of your kin." Aerie mustered, trying to sound unafraid, even as she lay on the cold ground before this creature. "If you release me I will not harm you."_

The urge to strike Sarevok was growing too powerful- the man knew just how and just where to push his buttons, to summon the rage and anger that was always lurking somewhere, buried beneath his exterior. Greywulf forced it down, taking a step back from the warrior lest he do something he would later regret. "Don't push me, 'brother.' You think every Bhaalspawn is a monster like you? You have no idea what I'm like. Or Imoen."

"Don't I?" Sarevok laughed, unfazed by the growing hostility directed towards him from all corners of the group. "You forget how long I hunted you. Studied you. Made you and your death my obsession..."

The big man paused a moment, and to any observer, it seemed that he was hesitating to continue taunting the powerful men and women before him. In truth... that's exactly what was giving him pause. Not out of fear though... out of caution. It was too easy to let his anger, his hatred of Greywulf overwhelm his good sense and ruin his plans... plans that would fail if Greywulf didn't learn to trust him, to believe him. The goads were an essential part of it- the man would be suspicious if he immediately halted treating him with the disdain he truly felt for him, but he had to keep the verbal warfare to a minimum... enough to assure Greywulf he had no ulterior motives. He continued, scarce a moment between pausing and speaking. "But how long shall we bicker about this? Your friend is in there, and unless she emerges soon, we have no choice but to assume the worst..."

_No sudden onrush of death. No quick, overwhelming display of force that would spell her final end. If her threat had annoyed the regal undead before her, it did not show. He simply smoothed his cloak once again, then took a step backward. "I shall make it clear and plain to you, girl, that your threats, as amusing as they are, will not buy you any more time than I choose to lend. Your only reason for survival thus far is that you... intrigue me. Your power and your manner suggest that you had a reason for entering here. Tell me... what was it?"_

_Should she say anything? The question froze her as she considered it. The longer she talked, the longer she lived... but would any of it really buy her freedom? And if she did talk, would it put her friends in harm's way? _

_"Hmm. I had thought you might remain silent." he sighed, exhaling lightly. "Very well."_

_He made a quick motion with one hand, and in the darkness, dozens of red eyes shone, speaking to just how many undead lurked in these jails. Aerie's sense of self-preservation kicked in, and she heard herself speaking before she knew it. "The Castle.... I... my companions and I, needed to get inside the castle. Gromnir's men have barred and locked the front gates, so we thought to enter through the jails."_

_Her words warranted a look of incredulity- the vampire raised a hand behind him, halting the feeding frenzy that was assuredly about to take place, and shook his head in wry amusement. "You thought that navigating the lair of my kin would prove a safer route? Foolish beyond measure. Tell me, who told you of this route? I shall have to thank them for sending me such delightful sport."_

_"Sister Farielle, a cleric at the temple-" Aerie began, halting as she saw the vampire's eyes narrow with recognition. "You... know her?"_

_"I do..." he murmured, pausing a moment as he glanced about the jails, his features knitting with thought and memory in the flickering torchlight. "She and I were... close, once upon a time. We met here, in these jails for many a midnight tryst when I was yet mortal."_

_His words connected the pieces that had been floating through her brain for so long- Aerie nodded in understanding, suddenly understanding the regality of this particular vampire, his show of... 'manners,' if it could be called such. "You're the Count Santele... aren't you?"_

_He arched a thin, black eyebrow and then bowed low, a hint of appreciation on his fanged features. "I am. And though I rarely acquaint myself with food, I feel it only proper to ask your own name, given that you know mine."_

_She slowly got to her feet, avoiding any sudden moves, trying not to alarm the swarm she was surrounded by. The Count Santele, leader of a coven of vampires beneath the castle. An idea was forming in her mind, one that might not just save her life, but the city of Saradush... in a manner of speaking. Minsc wouldn't like it. Greywulf certainly wouldn't. But they weren't here and she was. Besides, if her plan succeeded, then it might all be worth it. She bowed respectfully as well before fixing her gaze on the Count, refusing to show weakness- her blue eyes a stark contrast to the glowing red of the Count's. "I am Aerie, an Avariel of Faenya-Dail... and if you will listen, I have a proposition for you."_

"We don't abandon our own. That's the rule." Greywulf said with a modicum of restraint, bringing his temper back under control. "If she doesn't come out soon- we'll just have to get in."

Even among his stalwart companions, that idea drew a few raised eyebrows, though Minsc nodded without hesitation, his concern for the safety of his witch having grown each moment she was out of his sight. It had taken a direct plea from Aerie for him not to follow her into the jails to begin with- all the talk of her being left behind was doing nothing for his self-control. "Yes!! Minsc will bring down the walls if he must to reach his witch!"

"Not a bad plan, actually." Greywulf murmured, glancing at the doorway before them and the walls surrounding it. "The doorway will be warded against forced entry while it's locked- but if we can find some way of getting through a wall- a direct hit from one of the catapults outside would do the job nicely."

"And it would also release every creature inside into the city without hesitation." Jaheira reminded, considering the idea. "We cannot throw this city into any further turmoil- they are hanging by a thread as it stands now."

"You sound as if you actually find this plan worthy of consideration!" Sarevok laughed, shaking his head with arms folded across his chest. "How would you propose to use the fire giants' weapons in such a manner? Asking politely, perhaps?"

"Watch it." Imoen snapped, before nodding to Greywulf with a tight smile. "We've made crazier things work out, that's fer sure..."

Even as she spoke, the metal door beside them swung open with shrieks of protest from the hinges. All five turned with weapons ready, unsure of whether to greet their companion with joy at her mission complete, or to greet a foe with blade and spell; they were certainly not expecting to find both. Aerie stood side by side with the Count, the vampire gesturing with one hand toward the open portal behind him. "Good evening... I am Count Santele. Please, come in."

X X X X X X

"Greywulf... you know how much I hate vampires."

"I know, Im... me too."

"Then why the hell are we doing this?!"

Imoen's frustrated, worried hiss was not falling on deaf ears- Greywulf wondered the same exact question even as he followed the Count through darkened passages, past jail cells that were populated with the bones and old clothes of prisoners turned food for the vampires that made their dwelling here. All throughout the darkness, eyes watched their passage, simply waiting for an opportunity to gorge themselves on the meals walking amongst them.

Greywulf tossed Aerie another glance, wondering just how it had come to this. He was very much looking forward to finding out just what she'd been doing to get them into this situation; it wasn't every day one was invited to dinner by a legion of the undead... unless you were the main course. Still, somehow Aerie had not only discovered the identity of the vampires' leader - the previously thought exiled Count Santele- and struck some kind of bargain with him, which was leading them to have a nice quiet sit down somewhere deep in the bowels of the jails. Somewhere if, things went wrong, there would be absolutely no chance of escape from.

"This is a mistake, brother." Sarevok growled, his voice low, one hand on the hilt of his blade as he walked in step with the group.

"For once we agree on something." Greywulf murmured back, trying not to shiver.

"Are you certain the elf is not under a Domination spell? This is a fool's errand." the Deathbringer snarled.

Behind them, Aerie walked with Jaheira on one side, Minsc on the other- though Minsc was decidedly more comforting. Jaheira had done nothing but give a cold glare to her since they'd entered the darkness- it was like they were back in the first days of her traveling with the group. She knew Jaheira was just on edge about their surroundings, and rightfully so- but still, she couldn't help but feel a bit defiant. It would all turn out for the best- mostly. Maybe.

"Minsc is glad you are safe." the ranger whispered softly, one big hand taking Aerie's in his. He squeezed gently, looking down at her with a tender smile. "Boo and I were worried about you."

"Thank you Minsc." Aerie whispered back. "I'm glad you're with me too. Though I don't t-think the others are pleased with what I've done."

Minsc shrugged, looking over at Jaheira, who had turned her look of displeasure to a simple wary guard, constantly watching for a sudden strike from the undead that surrounded them on all sides, led by the Count as he lit their path with torches, coming to what looked from a distance like the main recreation area of the jails. It was a large pit with balconies and a walkway overlooking it- it had been turned to a twisted bedchamber, lined on all sides with coffins and bins of blood for feasting. Dried corpses littered the area, long drained of any blood or life. The acrid smell of blood was thick in the air- Aerie tried not gag as she entered in. "The more I think about it, the more I think they might be right, too..."

Count Santele descended the stairs to the center of the pit, where he stopped, placing the torch he had held on a stand on of the center pillars supporting the structure, then turned to face his 'guests.' He did not speak for a moment, as thought taking the measure of each and every one of them. Finally he spoke, his voice echoing around them in the dusty halls. "I shall speak plain, as I think it would be best if we- all of us- understand the situation."

"I agree." Greywulf swallowed, looking around at the silent shadows flitting back and forth in the balconies above. "Though it seems to me like your pals upstairs have a pretty good idea of what the situation is. Frankly, I'm not sure I like the looks of it."

The Count smiled, then glared up at the balconies and catwalks, hissing loudly. The omnipresent creatures ceased their lurking, slowly moving from the room as silent and quick as they had followed. When he was satisfied that the rest of the vampires had left, the Count looked back down at the six companions and raised in hands in what might've been the wry exasperation of a mother disciplining her unruly children. "They are... hungry. Since the siege began, we have had fewer and fewer people roaming the streets at night. We were forced to resort to the courtesan strategy that you so keenly found us out through... you cannot blame them, after all."

"When I'm on the menu? Like hell I won't blame them." Greywulf retorted, wrapping his cloak around him in an attempt to cut the chill of the musty jail cells. "Sorry if I seem rude, it's just that I can't decide if I you're being genuine and we can relax or if this is all one giant trick and I should just stake you now. You can't blame us, after all."

Santele smirked, conceding the repartee. "I admit, half of me would like nothing more than to descend upon you with the rest of my coven. It has been some time since we had so many warm bodies at once. But the other half- a half long since forgotten by the vampires who have been down here years longer than I, understands when two sides can be... mutually beneficial. Hence, the deal that your elven beauty made with me. I'm sure you'll agree that it is in the best interests of everyone here."

"We wouldn't know." Jaheira said, her spear in one hand with the shaft planted on the ground, leaning forward just enough to be able to drop it into a charge if need be. "You told us nothing of this plan or this bargain before we entered, and would only agree to release Aerie if we accompanied you. For all we know, you have put Aerie under a spell."

At another time Greywulf would have given a wry thought to the coincidence of Jaheira and Sarevok sharing the same question about Aerie's complicity in all this, but he got the distinct sense that now was not the time. Count Santele looked at Aerie with a smile, then shook his head with nonchalance. "No... this bargain came as much of a surprise to me as it did you, I suspect. But to understand, perhaps I should explain what Aerie guessed on her own."

He turned his back to them, walking across the room to one of the stairways leading up to the walkways overlooking the pit. He began ascending, speaking while he moved. "You have probably heard of my exile from the city at Gromnir's hands? Of course you have- you spoke with Farielle, did you not?"

It was not difficult to hear the rising venom in his tone as he spoke of Gromnir, nor the softening when Farielle's name was brought up. "Gromnir would have killed me, the wretched half-orc, had I stayed in the castle to confront him as his armies took control of the city. I chose to flee into the jails, trusting that his soldiers would either fall to the undead that we had long since sealed inside, or that they would simply not follow."

"And along with safety from Gromnir, you found some new friends." Imoen noted. "Didn't think this one through all the way, didja?"

"Foolish girl." Santele shook his head with a sneer. "Of course I understood my fate! And I knew that the only way I could ever rid my city of that barbarian was with power- more power than I had wielded as a mortal. Power that I have gathered and amassed, growing ever stronger here, right beneath the fool."

"Then I have to ask what's keeping you from moving?" Greywulf frowned, gesturing with a thumb back from where they had come as the Count finally reached the top of the stairs, moving to the center of the catwalk where he could overlook them all, a makeshift throne having been built there. "You've got more vampires than I've ever seen in one place. You also have the key to the doors- from where I'm standing, it seems like you could have taken your revenge, and your city, months ago."

"The siege." Sarevok said with understanding."You suffer the same problem as we do- you cannot assault the front doors because of the force Gromnir has placed there and the guards posted all along the wall."

"What about the door leading into the castle from in here?" Imoen asked. "It's why we came here, after all. Betcha Gromnir's not expecting an assault from inside the castle..."

"As you say... but Gromnir, the mongrel that he is, is still no fool." Santele growled, the facade of aristocratic taste and culture receding slightly to show the beast within as his features darkened. "Wards, placed specifically against the undead, have been put in place around the path leading into the castle. There are four statues that have been enchanted to ward against the undead, placed in the room leading from the jails to the castle underbelly. We cannot enter so long as those are in place."

"But we can, and then we can bring Gromnir to well deserved justice!" Minsc nodded his head enthusiastically. "Minsc likes this plan."

"We go in, bring down the pillars- and then we all bring down Gromnir." Greywulf reasoned, finally seeing the full train of logic that had led to this unlikeliest of alliances. "And here's where I start to wonder- we're doing this so that Saradush might have a shot at surviving the siege outside. Aside from revenge, what are you doing this for?"

Aerie's features fell with either shame or embarrassment, perhaps both- and Greywulf had a sudden feeling that he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. Count Santele smiled and shrugged his shoulders with nonchalance, leaning over the balcony as he stared them down. "Nothing more than what was stolen from me in the first place. To be its defender in the midst of this siege, and assuming we survive..."

"You want to be ruler of Saradush again." Jaheira breathed, turning to look at Aerie with shock and disbelief. "This... this is the deal you made? You promised a vampire the rule of this city in return for aid? Child, what have you done...?"

"A small price, if you really think about it." Santele offered with a confident smile. "Surely a city ruled by one such as I is better than a city razed to the ground?"

Greywulf did not speak- all he could think of was the deals he'd made in the past that had gone awry. Deals with the Shadow Thieves. Deals with Saemon Havarian. Deals with men he'd called friends and allies, only to end up at one another's throats at the end of the day. And now, here... another deal with the devil. Except this time, it wasn't just him, it was an entire town he was putting on the line. Ruled by a vampire, or annihilated by a fire giant and his armies. No Plan C. Greywulf swallowed hard, and prayed to the gods for forgiveness. "All right, you've got yourself a deal. Now where's the castle entrance?"

X X X X X X

The clatter of plates and silverware filled the room as those guards which had been lucky enough to pull this particular duty sat down for the evening meal. Everyone took a shift at this position, but it was definitely considered the posh duty, the one that was little more than a walk in the park. Guarding a simple metal door that was locked from the inside- the key either lost inside the prison below, or in the possession of some undead monstrosity. If that was the case, the four warding statues placed in all corners of the room, robed, praying monks pleading to the heavens that glowed purple in the low lights, would keep their foes at bay. Either way, there was little to do in this place but eat, nap, chit-chat, and wait for the changing of the shift. At least here, there was no danger of getting struck by a fire-giant's bow or dissolved by some spell.

Two guards sat across from each other at the table, their food quickly eaten as they turned their attention to more entertaining pursuits, throwing dice and playing cards. Another two were obviously asleep, light snores coming from their mouths as they sat against the cold stone walls, their spears having rolled from their limp palms the moment they lost consciousness. Behind the door, out of sight of these four relaxed men, a key slid into the lock, slowly turning and releasing the latches...

The sound of the lock 'snick' was quiet, but just enough to make one of the guards about to throw his dice give a sideways glance at the metal portal. His opposite frowned, gesturing for him to hurry up. "Oy! What's the big idea! Hurry up an' make yer move already."

"Thought I 'erd somethin."

"Bah! Naught but zombies and skeletons down there. Them statues keep 'em at bay, so quit yer worrying and get to rollin, aye?"

He nodded, raising a hand to throw the dice- the door flew open and out of the darkness leapt three fireballs, one from each wizard hidden in the darkness. The entire room erupted in flame, the concussion knocking both dice players from the table and across the room, the sound of their screams as fire roasted them inside their armor echoing into the jails. The two sleepers had, of course, been woken by the sudden onrush of heat and fire, but by the time they could get to their feet, a blade from Sarevok and a blade from Minsc had impaled both men.

In the crackling, burning room now stood five of the six adventurers- and in each corner of the room, as promised, were the warding statues. They had survived the fireball onslaught, and now it came to it. Greywulf glanced behind him, knowing that the Count Santele was watching from the shadows of the open door. Not only that, but Aerie was with him- the Count was no fool, and had kept one of their number back inside if Greywulf reconsidered his part of the bargain. There was really no choice in the matter. He nodded imperceptibly, and with four downswings, the statues crumbled, and from the darkness leapt the shadows and evil so long contained.

Aerie stepped out alongside Count Santele, the Count smiling broadly with pleasure as he let go of Aerie's arm, releasing her to her friends. "You have done well, my improbable allies. My kin will empty this castle of Gromnir's men. But you and I... we have the pleasure of ending that miserable creature's life ourselves. I know the fastest way to reach the Throne Room. Follow, and I shall lead."

They nodded silently, following the Count Santele as he walked without hurry, slow and steady even as the sounds of screaming began echoing from the floors and rooms above. They passed numerous clashes between soldier and vampire, gory bloodbaths where men and women had been taken unawares, and were limp on the ground with the Nosferatu feeding their hunger one, two, three at a time. Aerie watched the grisly sight, then turned away, unable to continue watching. She did not meet the sideways looks of the others- it was only Sarevok who spoke to her, a distinct sneer on his face. "You knew what your bargain would mean for these. You should be proud... were it not for them, it might be us who met our deaths here."

Proud... of what she had seen moments ago? He was mocking her... Aerie snarled, eyes narrowing at Sarevok as he regarded with her amusement. "You disgust me, Sarevok."

He laughed, then turned his eyes back to the Count, now leading them up a circular stairwell- two guards rushed downward, their eyes widening at the train of warriors ascending. One lunged at the Count- he hissed and grabbed the blade itself, shoving it to the side and throwing the wielder off with it. The sound of his screams as he fell were cut off by the distinct cracking of bones when he landed, and the other guard took a split-second to realize he wanted no part of the same fate- he attempted to turn and run back, but the Count's vampire reflexes were far too quick. A claw grabbed his shoulder and spun him around so that another claw could rip his throat out in one swift stroke. He collapsed to the ground, the Count pausing only to kneel and pick up the man's sword, before stepping over him on the way to the final ascension.

They reached the top, a foyer that led into the Throne Room but, a quick glance inside raised Greywulf's attention as he grabbed the Count and held him back. "Wait! Hold for a moment..."

Santele did not take kindly to being manhandled- but he did pause a moment and glance inside, eyes narrowing at the sight. "Her?! The one who brought Gromnir upon this town? I should feast on her as well..."

"Your guards threatened me with arrest if I did not accompany them," protested Mellissan, held on either arm by a burly guard as she stood before Gromnir's throne. "I do not take kindly to threats, Gromnir! What is it you want? Can you not hear that the siege as reached this very castle?!"

"Gromnir knows a stranger came to Saradush, pretty Mellissan." the massive half-orc scowled, his fangs bared as he gestured toward the door where, unbeknownst to him, those he sought were waiting. "Another Bhaalspawn! You must think Gromnir too stupid not to remember there is no way in or out of the city, mmm?"

"You fool, Gromnir! That 'stranger' may be our only hope of escaping this siege alive!" Mellissan shouted, still struggling against her captors.

"She's not part of the deal, Santele." Greywulf said firmly, keeping the Count's gaze as they listened. "You've already got the city, and Gromnir too- don't push your luck."

"Bah! Gromnir knows the truth! We is no idiot! Mellissan has brought this outsider in to kill Gromnir! Bhaalspawn means nothing! Yaga-Shura is Bhaalspawn - he wants Gromnir's head, too!" Gromnir bellowed a laugh, his eyes bulging with rage as he stepped down the few stairs to the throne to stand up against Mellissan, towering over her. "Foolish Mellissan is plotting against Gromnir. Mellissan is plotting the ruin of all the Children of Bhaal!"

"You are mad, Gromnir." Mellissan said with incredulousness. "Have I not always aided you and all the other Bhaalspawn? I brought you here to protect you - it was your paranoia that brought Yaga-Shura upon us!"

"Mad? Paranoid?" The half-orc laughed again, nodding his head as he drew the giant axe he carried upon his heavily armored back. "No! Gromnir finally understands how Mellissan lied! Mellissan lured Gromnir into a deathtrap! Tell Gromnir where the Bhaalspawn assassin is hiding, or Gromnir will have your head!!"

"Hiding? The stranger is not hiding, Gromnir! If you were not holed up in this castle, you two could have had a meeting when the stranger first arrived!" Mellissan screamed, spitting in Gromnir's face. "Go ahead and kill me if you dare!"

They'd waited too long- Greywulf turned to Imoen, ready to bark an order, but she was two steps ahead. Bow drawn and an arrow of lightning nocked, she took a split-second more to aim, then released. The arrow flew straight and true, striking Gromnir's arm though the plate mail held firm, and it ricocheted off, leaving only a brief spasm of arcing electricity over the gauntlets he wore. Gromnir whirled to face the sudden attack, throwing Mellissan to the ground as he hefted his axe in response to the intruders. His eyes bulged in fury, his mouth frothing at the sight of his enemy. "So the assassin is here! Ha ha! Greywulf has come to kill Gromnir, eh? HAH!! Good fun!"

"And would you forget me easily?" Count Santele spat, raising his sword as he howled an unearthly cry. "My brethren slaughter your men below, and I shall feast upon your blood tonight!" With that, Santele hurled himself at Gromnir, the two colliding in a mix of claws and swords, even as the rest of Gromnir's guards turned their attention to them, spells and swords coming to the ready.

"Minsc, get Mellissan to safety. Everyone else..." there was no point to finishing the sentence. Another lightning arrow thudded in the tower shield one of the guards was carrying, and an incoming fireball was caught and with a good deal of effort, dissipated by a shield Greywulf conjured to protect his comrades.

Gromnir threw up his axe, Santele's sword ricocheting off its edge. The Count whirled towards him like a dervish, his sword landing glancing blows and blocking counterattacks, but never finding that chink in the armor he so sought. Gromnir's own battle cries echoed loudly as the two battle-mages flanking both sides of the throne began spells anew, two more guards charging the line with swords and shields. Sarevok smiled tightly as he moved to meet the first of the guards, his own war cry noticeably slowing the opposition's charge. Minsc moved up against the second sword wielding foe, placing himself between that man and Mellissan, still on the ground, trying to push herself away from the fray as best she could. Jaheira stayed by Greywulf's side to protect against any enemy that broke through Minsc and Sarevok's charge.

Count Santele swung left, then right, finally feinting to drive a thrust straight for Gromnir's neck- the half-orc snarled as he sidestepped, using the opportunity to let Santele stumble past, then grab him by the back and throw him into the wall. He charged before the Count could recover, raging hard as he brought his axe into the vampire's body again and again, hewing chunks of flesh and gore from the undead creature's body. Still Santele refused to fall- Gromnir spat in the bloodied vampire's face and picked him up with both hands, hurling him upwards towards the window overlooking the Throne, his tremendous strength sending the vampire flying. With the shattering of glass, the Count disappeared from sight, and Gromnir turned back to face the others, swinging his axe upwards to deflect a bolt of lightning erupting from Greywulf's hands.

He bellowed a challenge and hefted his bloody axe, then charged towards the sorcerer, though his path took him close by Sarevok, driving hard against the man he fought. His axe swung out left, catching Sarevok by surprise, cutting through the Red Dragon Scale to slice into his shoulder. The Deathbringer grunted in pain as he fell back, abruptly put on the defensive against his enemy. Imoen had pulled her spell craft from the mage across the room to hit Gromnir instead, slowing his charge with a Skull Trap. It exploded on his chest, but he shrugged it off and kept coming, Jaheira having to move to intercept. She blocked his axe swing, allowing Greywulf to dodge to the side and send a barrage of Magic Missiles to explode across Gromnir's back. The attack left armor plates peeling and burnt, but the enraged half-orc would not be denied; he turned and swung out at Greywulf, narrowly missing. The mage ducked a follow-up attack as he circled the half-orc, Jaheira flanking him on the other side.

Aerie did her best to engage both mages across the room, sequencing her spells so that both were drawn to attack her while her defenses were up. She winced as another hail of flame arrows struck her Spell Trap, the blue shielding wavering under the barrage. She opened a small hole in its protection and aimed a Melf's Acid Arrow Spell, choosing to strengthen her defenses rather than launch a full attack. It proved wise as a Spell Thrust aimed at her knocked out her Spell Shield, rather than her primary protections. She quickly began summoning another Spell Shield, trusting that one of her fellow party members would come to her aid soon. Trembling under another barrage of Magic Missiles, she whispered a prayer to Baervan.

Minsc was matched quite evenly against the swordsman he faced, unable to get past his defenses though no attack had struck true against him. He sidestepped a lunge, swinging down to trap his opponent's sword underneath it. The man's shield batted out, catching Minsc just under his chin, the neck blow sending him stumbling away, trying to recover. He could hear a scream from Mellissan behind him as they drew closer to the defenseless woman- the sword he had trapped slid free, cutting down towards his hand, an attempt at disarming him… literally. He twisted abruptly, letting the blow glance off his gauntlet instead, though it left a nasty sting on his wrist where the blow would have landed. His hand twitched, dropping the Vorpal Sword from his grasp, Minsc unable to back away for fear of exposing Mellissan to harm. Instead, he went immediately for the two axes strapped to his back. Frostreaver and Stonefire coming to his hands in a blur of blue and red.

Sarevok gritted his teeth as his sword locked with his opponents', their strength pushing against each other in midair. The magic and power of the Sword of Chaos gave him an advantage- his opponent refused to fight a losing battle and swung his metal shield at him, Sarevok forced to either disengage and allow a counter-attack or take the blow on his side. He shifted his body and weight to let the blow land on his pauldron rather his side and arm, then forced his full weight down again, slamming his opponent's sword onto his own shield. With both of his arms trapped, Sarevok abruptly released one hand from his sword and grabbed the man's throat, squeezing tightly. The man had not expected it and could not get his sword or shield out from under Sarevok's powerful blade fast enough to free himself. His throat quickly buckled under the Deathbringer's iron grip, and it was not until the sound of popping bones had echoed around them before he let go. As the man slumped to the ground, he turned around, watching Aerie continue to strive against the two mages she fought. Hefting his sword, trying to ignore the continual pain he felt from the wound Gromnir had dealt him, Sarevok charged forward, silent and quick as he bore down on the unwary mages. The closest mage looked up at the last second, his eyes widened as he saw Sarevok's sword plunge into his own chest, Sarevok lifting the man up on his blade with a shout of feral rage. The man screamed as his life bled away, the other mage horrified and driven back by the grisly sight, Sarevok's gaze already falling on him. As soon as he took his eyes off Aerie, she acted. Her protections dropped to cast a Power Word, stopping the man in his tracks with stunning magic.

He could do nothing but watch in terror as Sarevok shunted the impaled man off his sword and stalked over to him, rearing back with his blade…

The man's head rolled down the stairs of the throne toward Aerie, the elf giving a brief nod of gratitude to Sarevok as he approached, already looking to the last two opponents. Jaheira and Greywulf were still circling Gromnir, staggering their attacks between both magic and spear, trying to catch the general off guard. Gromnir was powerful though, and the spells cast at him were repelled by his armor despite Greywulf's best efforts. He whirled with his axe, Jaheira moving to dodge, as Greywulf moved up to attack… his eyes widened as he saw Gromnir's attack not slowing, but continuing in a giant circle, moving too fast at him even as he tried to halt his forward motion. The axe caught him across the stomach, slicing a deep cut across his torso. Gromnir's face contorted in a nasty grin as Greywulf fell backward, red rapidly staining across the front of his robes. He hit the ground with a thud, the staff he held rolling from his grasp.

"Greywulf!!" Jaheira shouted, rushing Gromnir in a fury born of rage and panic, attacking without thought. Both emotions made for a foolhardy attack, and with a quick sidestep Gromnir swung his axe across Jaheira as she blurred past him, getting her across the back. She cried out as she fell, tumbling alongside Greywulf, barely holding onto her weapon.

"Hah!! Gromnir strongest - Kill assassins!! Good fun!"

He raised his axe high, grinning down at the two incapacitated at his feet… Aerie and Imoen both rushed to him, Imoen striking savagely with her short sword, Aerie smashing him with the Flail of Ages. Aerie's attack came from the left, Imoen's from the right, both recognizing that the armor he wore made their magics far too weak to stop him from killing at least one of the two downed there. Gromnir grunted in pain as a trickle of acid began eating into his armor from the Flail's head, swinging a massive arm towards Aerie, while his axe hand swung towards Imoen. Imoen was quick enough to dodge the attack aimed at her; Aerie was a second too slow. The blow sent her stumbling backward, caught at the last second by Sarevok, pushing her back to her feet as he moved up, though Gromnir had already seen him. The half-orc spat at Sarevok, a black gooey mass that landed at his feet. Sarevok stepped past Greywulf's body, over Jaheira, paused for a brief second… then attacked. Three massive strikes landed, each from a different angle, forcing Gromnir to block all of them, moving his axe at impossible speeds to keep from getting hit. Still, he was forced back with each deflection, giving Sarevok what he had wanted; Aerie now had more than enough room to kneel beside Greywulf and Jaheira without danger to herself, hurriedly trying to heal them with her magics.

While Sarevok dueled Gromnir, Minsc was still busy fighting the other swordsman, their skill levels nearly equal with their energy levels nearly empty. Deep cuts ran along the shield that the enemy bore, courtesy of the axes Minsc bore. Minsc had suffered a few cuts across the hand and legs, but nothing debilitating. Still, neither of them were at the energy necessary to finish each other, borne to exhaustion by the length of their duel… still, Minsc had one thing the other man did not. A blast of flame nearly consumed him, but his shield came up in time, blocking the jet of fire emanating from Imoen's hands. His ally had given him the time he needed; the ranger let go, releasing all the fury he felt inside and his body flooded with energy while the world went hazy, a berserker rage overtaking him. One axe blasted against his opponent's sword, the other moving to slice off his shield hand. As the hand holding the shield dropped to the ground, the man screaming in pain, Imoen's spell had nothing to hold it back, and her Aganazzar's Scorcher hit its intended target to end the fight.

Even as the man's final screams died away, Sarevok kept pushing at Gromnir, each of his attacks falling just short of striking true. Gromnir seemed to be stymied, unable to find the position to counterattack… Sarevok's blade came down again, bouncing off the high block and around in a wide sweep to the side, meant to cut Gromnir in two. Gromnir dodged instead of blocking, and the attack had enough force in it to leave Sarevok exposed for a half-second. That time was all Gromnir needed to attack, hammering at Sarevok with a blitz of axe swipes, quickly pushing him back towards Aerie. Sarevok did his best to regain the edge, but his power was faltering under such massive strength from the half-orc. Just as his foot stepped beside Aerie's kneeling form, gradually slowing the profuse bleeding along Jaheira's back, Gromnir stiffened with a howl of pain. Minsc had come from behind and with the last bits of energy provided before his berserker rage wore off and drained him completely, he had swung both axes in a two handed blow, wedging both deep into his back.

Minsc stumbled backward, his eyes rolling up in his head as he lapsed into unconsciousness, completely drained of all energy. Still, both axes remained in Gromnir's back as Imoen moved to take Minsc's place in attacking. Sarevok had resumed control of the battle, Gromnir unable to fight as Sarevok's sword cut through his armor once, twice, three times. A wave of magic pushed its way through his shredded armor, Imoen's spell throwing the half-orc across the room. He slammed into a wall, the axes lodged in his back punched further up in him. Gromnir's scream cut off, even as his eyes opened wide, then glazed over as he slid down the wall, collapsing with blood smeared on the wall behind him all the way down to his back.

Sarevok took a few steps backward, studying the body of the dead general as he tried to catch his breath, holding the shoulder that was injured. The body of Gromnir glowed briefly, then befell the same fate as Illasera, dissolving in a burst of golden light and sparks as the taint erupted from Gromnir's body. "And so the pool is thinned." Sarevok grunted. "One less Bhaalspawn to fight for the Throne."

As if responding to his words, the taint spun through the room, before swarming towards Greywulf and Imoen. The golden lights disappeared into their bodies, and Aerie recoiled as Greywulf sat up, his eyes glowing bright yellow, screams echoing from him and Imoen in tandem, the god-essence forcing its way into the two of them. Imoen managed to crane her head to look over at Greywulf, her pink hair in a whirlwind around her as she managed to speak, her voice echoing with godly power. "_Greywulf... do something!!"_

Lightning blazed from the half-elf's mouth and eyes as Aerie backed away, pulling Jaheira with her in fear- the sorcerer looked up in fury as pillars of light surrounded everyone left alive within the room, whisking them from Saradush and the plane of reality itself.


	15. Part 1: Inevitability

_Author's Note: Credit goes to G3's Idobek for the Deathbringer kit definition! Seriously, try it out, it's a good mod. Oh, and it's time for that General Disclaimer again! Don't own anything but Greywulf. Don't sue me. _

_The cold, empty void of the darkness that surrounded her- a crushing blackness that weighed upon her soul, making every breath an exertion and an attempt not to panic, not to lose what sanity she'd managed to maintain here, alone. Imoen took one step forward, then another, her feet landing on nothing below, even as there was nothing above but stars and inky darkness that enveloped her like a cloak fifty sizes too big. Her eyes flit back and forth, looking for something, anything familiar, something that might signal an end or a light in the shadow- but nothing. Only the terrible, unending feeling that she was alone- really and truly alone. The memory of her time in Spellhold, broken under the tortures of Irenicus and Bodhi came unbidden back to her- no. They were dead, and she'd had a hand in killing them. This was... something else._

_Imoen stopped, trying to quell the growing drumbeat of her heart, trying to stop the cold trickle of sweat down her neck as she focused on what she knew was real. She was real. Her friends were real- wherever they were. All she had to do was find them- find Greywulf, or Minsc, or Jaheira, and she'd be just fine. That's all she needed. She was an arch-mage after all... Imoen tried to speak the words to a spell, but it was if the very darkness stole her words into the night and quieted them, making her incantations useless. Her arms felt like they were mired in quicksand, and any attempts to draw the runes for spellcraft were too slow and awkward to work properly._

_Everything gone... all her powers taken. Where was she? A dark, muffled laugh echoed all around her as Imoen spun in place, looking for the source of the malevolent laughter- and the world followed suit. Spinning like a top, the darkness remained, but it was interspersed now, tucked in between the ruins of stone walls and guard towers, in the midst of castles long since overgrown and torn down. She recognized the walls, the houses, the ragged banners. It was Saradush... Saradush if the siege were successful. Everything was burned and ravaged- skeletons and charred bones littered the ground along with broken swords and shattered shields. The ground shook and Imoen looked up, her fears suddenly jumping to the forefront of her mind once more. Towering over the ruins of the city, eyes as black as the void surrounding them, stood the Laughing Death- a twisted, perverse version of herself. Pink hair spun around that mockery of a face- it laughed again, then leaned over, her frenzied, perverse grin filling Imoen's world. "I.... SEE... YOU!!"_

_Imoen ran for cover, trying to hide behind something, anything that would block her gaze, but there was no way she'd be fast enough. A hand swept down to grab her- if she were caught, there was no way to escape. Right as the Laughing Death's fingers brushed against Imoen from behind- the sound of lightning and thunder echoed with a deafening boom. The Laughing Death stumbled backwards, holding a smoking portion of her chest with a vicious glare at the culprit. Imoen craned her head upward with disbelief- it was *her*... but not her. A younger, innocent, purer version perhaps? There were none of the lines, none of the stress or scars crossing her features- in fact, she looked much like she had when leaving Candlekeep for the first time. _

_Her double raised a hand once more and a fireball as big as the city itself leapt to consume the Laughing Death in its embrace- the monster sneered and pushed both hands out, slowly but surely redirecting it, the flame shuddering as the energies surrounding it were reversed- it leapt back at Imoen and her guardian. Imoen leapt behind a crumbled building, praying for escape- it detonated, and the planks and foundations of her cover blew away like dust, leaving Imoen exposed once more. The Laughing Death howled in victory, then vaulted towards her, one hand extended to grab Imoen once again- she felt a sudden tightening around her waist as her protector snatched her up first, holding her close in wary defense._

_The Laughing Death snarled and changed course, instead moving to tackle this annoyance, this guardian- the two tumbled into the burned stone ruins of the castle, crumbling it beneath their bodies as they landed, Imoen being jerked back and forth as her protector tried desperately to keep her from harm's way- too late. A punch from Imoen's monstrous, twisted side left her protector's grip weakened, and with a slam against her wrist, her hand opened completely, sending Imoen tumbling across the stones in pain. She was not free for long- the Laughing Death snatched her up and all Imoen could do was scream as the inky blackness in her eyes and the mocking laughter of her mouth overtook the world, sending everything else to oblivion-_

Imoen bolted upright with a scream beginning to leap from her mouth, only to find a firm and steady hand bracing her shoulder, giving her something real, something tangible to hold on to. Jaheira was kneeling beside her, brow knit with concern as Imoen slowly began to calm, closing her eyes in relief. "Jaheira..."

"Yes, it is I." the druid sighed, embracing the young girl, only trembling slightly. "You and Greywulf gave us quite the scare... it is good to see you two back to normal."

Imoen chuckled humorlessly, repeating her old friend's words. "Normal- heh. Not sure I'd call any of us- what the?! Dammit Jaheira, why didn't you tell me we were back here?! Yeesh, just about gave me a heart attack!"

Jaheira glanced behind her to where Imoen's gaze had drifted, watching the lightning-filled green sky, the charcoal-black clouds, and of course, the demonic faces and statues leering over the rocky platform they were lying on. The Pocket Plane that Greywulf had mastery over... they'd come here after Greywulf's desperate attempt at ending their taint-induced suffering. Imoen winced, rubbing her head and only then realizing that she wasn't, in fact, lying on the rocky ground. She had been on a wooden cot of sorts with blankets that were comfortable enough to sleep on- though where they had come from was another matter. Imoen was obviously still confused and reeling from her experience, so Jaheira exhaled softly and began explaining.

"After the two of you... absorbed, I think, the Bhaal-essence from Gromnir, it began to do... something to you. Do not ask me what, I should think that the two of you would understand it far better than I. It looked as though it would drive you mad. Greywulf brought us back here, to the Pocket Plane, though whether it was intentional or not, I cannot answer. Soon after we arrived, both of you calmed down."

"And the bed I'm on?" Imoen asked, flipping her legs out so that she could come to a sitting position opposite Jaheira.

"The imp, Cespenar." Jaheira sighed, glancing over at the fluttering bundle of energy, zipping hurriedly back and forth between the different crevasses and corners of the platform, squealing excitedly at times and murmuring to himself. "He has some influence over this place, though it seems limited to simple items such as these. According to him, Greywulf could do much the same if he exerted the will- though on a much grander scale."

"Then tell him to conjure us up some baths and some food." Imoen quipped, resting her chin on her hands. "I'm hungry and I haven't bathed in days. Neither have you, from the looks of your clothes, heh."

Jaheira glared, but she did acknowledge the point- she'd discarded her armor once they'd arrived and her tunic and leathers beneath were not exactly in the cleanest of condition. Imoen peered around the realm, looking for the others. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Still being healed by Aerie." Jaheira answered, raising one arm gingerly to point across the rocky platform, where in the green-tinted light, one could make out a petite form leaning over a prone man, flashes of light that must have been the expulsions of magical energy lighting up every now and then. "He was injured grievously in the battle with Gromnir. It will be some time before he is at full capacity again."

"Yeah, I remember..." Imoen muttered, before frowning and glaring heavily at Jaheira. "What about you? I remember you gettin' nailed pretty good back there too..."

"I will be fine." Jaheira stated, meeting Imoen's glare with one of her own, the unspoken command to drop the subject. "I have been healed of the worst of it. That is all you need to know-"

Imoen leapt to her feet and sprinted behind Jaheira, the druid unable to move quickly enough to keep Imoen in front of her. Not that she could have moved anything resembling the word 'quick' at all, which was understandable once Imoen got a look at her back. The leather tunic she wore had been sliced into, crimson staining the entire back. The torn, blood drenched leather showed off a red, scab covered wound that ran from her left shoulder to the right side of her waist, and from the tender way she continued to try and turn to face Imoen, seated upon the small wooden stool Cespenar had conjured up, it was clear that the wound was anything but healed.

When Jaheira finally managed to turn around to face Imoen, the thief-mage was standing with hands planted on hips, shaking her head with both concern and disapproval. "And yer trying to keep me lying down? Get on that cot and stay there until Aerie can come take a look at this. Gods know you probably just did a quick fix on yourself and told Aerie to go work on Greywulf while you 'healed' me..."

"First of all, I find it amusing that you think you can command me to do anything." Jaheira said with a hint of smugness in her tone, though it was not meant unkindly. "Second, I told Aerie to heal Greywulf not to avoid drawing attention to my own injuries, but because he needed it the most. She has spent more time devoted to mastering those spells of healing, while I have focused more on the usefulness of my magic in combat. To put it bluntly, Aerie is... a better healer than I, all things equal."

Imoen blinked once, then twice. She opened her mouth to speak before Jaheira raised a finger, a look of warning in her green eyes. "But that is something you will not say to her."

"It wouldn't kill you to compliment her once in a while." Imoen sighed with a nod as she walked back to sit on the bed, crossing her legs with her lips pursed in partial annoyance. "I talk to her a lot, y'know. More than you do... and whether she knows it or not, she's constantly looking for your approval. Maybe not as outright as she used to, but Aerie still looks up to you."

Jaheira turned to look at the young elf as she continued her work with Greywulf, concentrating solely on the work she'd been tasked with. The druid turned back to Imoen and smiled with a hint of sadness... or perhaps it was regret? "I know. Believe me, I understand only too well. As much as it pains me, I keep my approval to a minimum so that she will strive ever harder to earn it... and become that much better in the end. Perhaps it is a cruel way to inspire her... but she needed it. She was little more than a naive child when she first met us-"

"And now she's one of the most powerful spell-slingers on Faerun." Imoen scowled. "She's not the same girl anymore. Maybe you should stop treating her like it."

Jaheira paused, then nodded quietly to Imoen. "I shall consider it, though such decisions as the one she made in the jails beneath the Castle do not help any. Maybe once things have calmed down- once Greywulf has been healed, she and I will speak."

"Good to hear it." the thief smiled with approval, looking around the room once more, scanning for the others. "Hmph. I guess Sarevok's being as anti-social as ever, though I can't say that's a bad thing. Hey, I didn't see Mellissan here before. Looks like Minsc is keeping her company."

"And a good thing of it too." Jaheira stated. "I cannot imagine that traveling to an interplanar demonic realm is something she experiences every day. Still, Minsc has done a fine job of keeping her at peace. He has a calming spirit about him."

"That's one way to put it." Imoen chuckled. "In all seriousness though, I think you should go get yerself some rest. I'll go and check in with the others. Knowing ol' Grey, he'll probably want us to get back on the move once everyone's been healed up."

Jaheira shook her head, motioning for Imoen to stay seated. "I would disagree. Once Greywulf is healed, you and he need to find out what happened when Gromnir died. Rather, what the effects were on the two of you. The essence of Bhaal entered you two... but that did not occur when Illasera died, or when Sarevok was killed the first time. Something has changed, and until we find out what, you two must keep yourself out of harm's way."

She rolled her eyes, grumbling quietly, "Yer sounding like Sarevok, the bufflehead. Talkin like Greywulf and I are more important than the rest of you..."

Jaheira paused, and then spoke, though hesitation was evident in her tone. "As much as you may not wish to hear it... Sarevok is right in this case. The two of you are more important than Aerie, Minsc, myself, and especially Sarevok. Whatever the prophecies hold for the children of Bhaal, it surrounds you and Greywulf... not us. Our job is to keep you safe and able to find your destiny amidst all this madness... as it has always been."

Imoen thought back to when Khalid and Jaheira first joined her and Greywulf, all those years ago... "It has, hasn't it? Yer right about one thing, I guess. I didn't want to hear that."

Across the rocky plateau, Aerie found herself suddenly short of breath as she continued working on Greywulf's wounds, or more specifically, the long axe gash running straight across his chest. She realized rather quickly that it was because she was periodically holding her breath whenever she'd reach particularly difficult parts, like trying to close the gap of flesh and meat without tearing it open again. Aerie paused, felt her hands stop trembling, and then whispered the words to her spells once more. The tip of her index finger began glowing a pale blue as she ran it from the top of the nasty wound to the bottom, watching intently as the cut closed behind it, if only a little. It was still too deep, too grievous to heal quickly, but she had done nearly all her powers would allow her to do without rest. He was out of any danger, so long as he didn't try to sit up anytime soon, she supposed.

A faint groan issued from his mouth- Aerie let herself smile a bit. Knowing him, that would be the first thing he'd try to do. She spoke quickly and early, hoping he could hear her. "Don't sit up just yet- you'll tear open the wound again. It's just now settled- wait another day or so."

"Mmph... that you Aerie?" Greywulf muttered, eyes still shut tight as he grimaced. The wound might have been closed, but it still felt like there was a blade of fire jammed in his chest. "Guess we made it out all right..."

"I suppose, yes." Aerie chose her words carefully; if he knew Jaheira was still in poor shape- and she was, no doubt about it, he'd probably want to do something foolish like go to her. Or sit up. "I've done most of what I can do for today... we'll all need some sleep and then we can start again. I think Mellissan would rather be gone from this place, and I can't blame her. It may be your plane, but this place still frightens me."

Greywulf opened his eyes, looking up into the thunderous green sky- he laughed humorlessly, only to grunt in pain as his chest wound throbbed from the exertion. "Damn it... ah. All right, I suppose I could use a bit of a nap. Thanks Aerie."

Aerie smiled briefly, then shook her head as she began bandaging the wound tenderly. "You don't have to thank me, you know."

"No... no, I do." Greywulf continued quietly, catching her eyes. "We take you and Jaheira for granted in the party, and that's a shame. So thank you."

She paused, then nodded in gratitude. "Very well. Does this mean that you forgive me for what I did back in Saradush?"

Greywulf frowned for a moment, and then figured out what she was referring to. He sighed, wincing as her lithe fingers tightened the bandages over his chest. "I'll be honest with you. I think it was a mistake, and I don't agree with the decision. Having said that, I wasn't there. You were. You were the one facing that situation, and you did what you had to in order to get us through and save yourself. I don't know what I would've- or could've done in your place."

He paused, only to hear her cough slightly, clearing her throat. "Is that a 'Yes, I forgive you'?"

He smiled, trying not to laugh for fear of reopening his wound. "Yes, I suppose it is. Besides, I don't think I have much business judging anyone here- not with what happened back at Gromnir's castle. You said everyone's okay? Imoen too?"

"Imoen too." Aerie nodded, finishing her healing as a sudden fluttering got her attention. Cespenar had flown to their sides, his glinting black eyes peering at Greywulf with concern and interest. "Ooooh... Cespenar is glad to see master okay! Was not looking forward to finding a new job so soons after coming back! Is you comfortable, master? You want Cespenar to conjure more beds and thingses?"

"Thanks for the concern, Cespenar." Greywulf craned his head up and pointed at the others. "I bet the rest of the party could do with something to lie down on besides hard rock. Beds for them and Mellissan, too. I'd tell you to keep her company, but I think Minsc has got that handled."

Cespenar nodded eagerly, then fluttered off on his slightly undersized wings, humming to himself as he summoned beds and other articles of furniture that might have resembled beds... if they were nine feet tall and had six legs. Aerie returned her attention to the man lying before her, then bit her lip- it was a habit she'd picked up from Imoen, and Greywulf spotted it immediately. He smiled and offered, "You can say whatever it is you're thinking. I know that look of hesitation too well."

Aerie smiled, then spoke. "I was just... well, I was wondering about what you did back there... when you and Imoen absorbed the Bhaal taint. How it affected you, I s-suppose."

"That's a good question, but I'm afraid I'm not the one to ask." Greywulf sighed, turning to where he could point off at the far end of the rocky platform. "If you're looking for answers, and I know I will be- he's the one to ask. You asked why we're taking him with us... this is the reason why."

Aerie's face wrinkled in disgust as she looked over at Sarevok, meditating alone. "I suppose you're right... but that doesn't mean I have to like him."

"Not at all. In fact, I'd say nobody here likes him. But I will admit I've grown... tolerant, of his presence. And after all, he *is* my brother. Rather, one of the few who isn't actively trying to kill me at the moment."

His attempts at humor did little to calm her spirits; Aerie watched the big man in the corner for a moment more than turned back to Greywulf with a shake of the head. "I don't trust him at all... he'll betray us. The way he stares with those yellow eyes... they're so intense. It happened to you when the taint took you... but why-"

"Are his glowing yellow permanently?" Greywulf sighed. "Another question you'd have to ask him, if you really want to know. But as for the other 'why'... to intimidate. He is a Deathbringer, after all."

"I never really knew what that meant- I've heard stories of them before, but what are they?" Aerie asked quietly, as though afraid Sarevok would overhear, as far away as he was.

"A Deathbringer." Greywulf suppressed a cough, wincing at the pain involved the effort. "A warrior who has studied how to maximize the fear in his opponent, to so totally incapacitate and terrify them that victory can be achieved with a single blow... or in some cases, before a blow has even been struck. They devote their whole training to bringing out that fear, that ability to invoke horror in those they fight. If you want my guess, I'd say it's another part of his training, some magic he learned that he uses to scare his opponents."

"Well, it sure scares me." Aerie grumbled. "Can't he… shut them off, or something?"

"Probably." Greywulf shrugged. "That's the other problem with Deathbringers… they train so fiercely for battle that when it comes to normal life, they have a hard time not letting those impulses and instincts dominate them even then. Not that I can picture Sarevok living a 'normal' life."

"Why would they want to become such a thing?" Aerie shook her head, not understanding. "Why would you want to inspire nothing but fear in all those you meet? What kind of life is that?"

"I've asked myself that a couple of times, Aerie." Greywulf sighed, letting his head rest back as he stared up into the endless void. "I don't know… they say that those who lust for power and attain a measure of it always want more. That a taste is never enough."

"Not you." Aerie glanced at him. "You're not like that; you only use power because you have to. It's what you've taught me to do… what you've taught all of us."

"Have I?" Greywulf smiled briefly. "I sometimes wonder just how much of the power I wield is fueled by my mastery of magic, and how much comes from the taint within. Perhaps not the Slayer, but… subtle ways. Untapped reservoirs of energy I didn't know I had. Strength of will that comes to me when I'm tapped out. Power in my spells I can barely control… magic is a delicate art, as you well know, Aerie… so much more when one begins to manipulate the tendrils and currents of magic itself, rather than the mere shaping of scroll bound spells. So much power is necessary… would I have survived as long as I have without the taint within? Has it been responsible for me living this long?"

"You are pure of heart." Aerie whispered as Greywulf let his head rest backwards again, weariness settling in upon the sorcerer once more as his eyes closed quietly, gently. "The taint does not have mastery over you yet… I do not believe it ever will."

X X X X X X

In the shadowed halls of Amkethran's monastery overlooking the town itself, the head of the monastic order sat at a table, his eyes closed as he wrapped himself tighter in the simple brown robes he wore. The time had come to reconvene them all once more. The Four, once Five, had to be informed of what had just taken place. Of the danger that faced them all. The others were all in separate locations, carrying out their bloody tasks- it was left to him to coordinate their movements, to summon their voices when the situation required it. And it was the lesser of the evils, he supposed, when it came down to it. Going out and slaughtering innocents to find his brothers and sisters, or simply ordering four others to do the same, telling them where and when to kill those innocents?

He pushed the thoughts from his head- it had to be done. And in the end, the world might not thank him for it- but his conscience would be satisfied, and that was enough. It *had* to be enough. Still, he had not come to this table of blood, the brass embossing of the symbol of Bhaal in the center glowing green as the portal spells began activating, to simply meditate on his lot in life. From his sanctuary in the desert, Balthazar saw all- and he knew that the time was close.

In line, three portals of magic opened across from him, each one displaying the face of his kin. On the left- the gruff, bearded sneer of the giant. "What is it?! Yaga-Shura cannot be bothered every passing moment to track another measly spawn! Saradush is mine!"

"And it will remain so, Yaga-Shura." Balthazar said calmly, hoping to quell the appropriately fiery temper of the mammoth. "There are so few left... most reside in the city you hold under your foot as we speak."

"Then why this meeting?" a silky, venomous voice interjected. The second portal- Sendai's dark features glimmered into view, her red eyes piercing Balthazar's with anger. "Is it Gorion's wards? Have they made themselves known?"

"In a manner of speaking." Balthazar clasped his hands on the table and stared both god-spawn down darkly. "Somehow they made their way inside Saradush. They killed Gromnir Il-Khan- the last defense of the city has fallen."

"Then Yaga-Shura may strike now!" the giant roared in anticipation. "My spies shall bring down the shields and I will grind them beneath my hammer!"

"It would be wise to remain cautious, Yaga-Shura." the third portal opened- the draconian visage of Abazigal shone through, his reptilian eyes narrowing as he folded his scaly arms. "Manpower should not be wasted so. Especially if Gorion's wards are among the defenders of Saradush."

"We still do not know how they got in... what if they find a way out?" Sendai added.

"It matters not! Have you forgotten my power? They cannot harm me, regardless of their vaunted strength!" Yaga-Shura laughed, spittle flying into his beard.

"Do not grow too confident in your own strength, giant." Balthazar turned to stare into Yaga-Shura's flickering image, the portals slowly closing as the magic relented. "Greywulf has killed Illasera, Gromnir and Sarevok… we must not take chances. Kill him swiftly. No mercy for this Bhaalspawn."

Sneers from the giant, withering glares from the drow, and calculating malice from the half-dragon. Each one of his allies, so very predictable. so completely wrapped up in their own worlds, in their own delusions and dreams. So tempting to abandon them now, to let them meet the fate they had so justly earned for themselves... no. Not while Greywulf and Imoen yet lived. They had to die first. Then... then, he could avenge the blood of the innocent. Then he could find peace, if such a thing were even possible for one such as him.

X X X X X X

"We're sorry for the abrupt transition... at least you know now how we got in and out of the city." Greywulf offered with a faint smile, extending a hand to Mellissan, the noblewoman taking it in surprisingly good grace considering how strange and nerve-wracking the experience must have been. Since their arrival almost two days prior, Mellissan had scarcely moved from the sides of one of the party, always remaining close by, presumably for fear of one of the demonic statues coming to life and sucking out her soul. Well, perhaps not that, but she had never strayed far, and to be honest, that was probably for the best. Greywulf was still unsure of how much power he could exert over the Bhaal-realm, consciously or unconsciously. For everyone's sake, it would be better for her to leave and return to whatever it was she had been doing before being sucked into the battle with Gromnir and the rest of them. A question, in retrospect, that still needed to be answered.

"Still, we never did get a chance to ask you- why was Gromnir holding you hostage? I thought you were in negotiations with him." the sorcerer posed the question as he leaned heavily on his quarterstaff, trying to avoid putting too much strain on his chest. It still hurt to breathe, but there wasn't the time to get back to full strength. Half- or less, even, would have to do.

"I had hoped to stop the bloodshed that I feared your meeting with him would bring, to tell the truth." Mellissan said quietly, folding her arms but refusing to lower her gaze, unashamed. "Perhaps you think less of me for a lack of trust in you finding a peaceful solution, but I did what I thought was best, and shall not apologize for such."

"He left us no choice, woman." Sarevok said through narrowed eyes, his defiant glare matching her own. "I would rather know how you intended to 'help' the rest of your blind followers in the city if you gave yourself up like a lamb to the slaughter. I did not see any chance of you surviving your encounter with the half-orc. Like so many other idealistic fools... weak, and naive."

"Watch your tongue, warrior." Mellissan defended, shooting the Deathbringer a dark glare. "I am not without my own skills, in both fighting and magic. Had it come down to it, I could have escaped Gromnir's clutches. You had best take care when dealing with those you do not fully understand."

"As much as I love seeing Sarevok taken down a few notches, we should probably try and work together here, right?" Imoen interrupted, sighing with regret at not being able to watch the conflict play itself out further. "The point is we're all safe... and mostly none the worse fer' wear. Now we went ahead and did what you needed us to do- we got Gromnir out of power, even if it weren't exactly the way you wanted it."

"Imoen is right." Minsc nodded solemnly. "We have done what we must- now tell us how to stop the evil giant outside the city! Minsc is afraid that we do not have much time..."

"And you are right to fear." Mellissan sighed, the fire within seemingly dying for the moment. "I knew the chance of Gromnir joining you was slim, but I thought he might listen to reason. I was desperate to end this siege, and I…I was wrong. I'm sorry. Now I fear we are all doomed; with the exception of this Pocket Plane, there is no way out of Saradush. Between the army and the strange imprisoning magics, even our wizards are trapped in the city."

"But it's not too late for us to transport out, even if we can't get the rest of the civilians." Aerie reasoned quietly. "We could confront Yaga-Shura... perhaps draw him away from the city?"

"An assault against his army, massed as it is would be nothing short of suicide." Jaheira remarked, but her brow was knitted in deep thought as she spoke. "Perhaps there is another way..."

"There is no other way, short of confrontation of some kind. Understand, Greywulf, that this siege is but the beginning." Mellissan shook her head firmly, fixing gazes with the half-elf. "Until this threat is ended, it doesn't matter where we go… we are in danger of being exterminated by Yaga-Shura and his allies. Eventually, even you would be overwhelmed by their power. I…I know more about them. The other Bhaalspawn allied with the giant- more than I'm saying, as your suspicious looks betray. But I will not tell you everything unless you try to save Saradush. I'm sorry that it must be this way, but I cannot allow this to continue as it has."

The sound of Cespenar cheering as he dug through the assorted packs of items that the party had left aside for him to check drew a sideways glare of disgust from Sarevok before he returned his blazing stare to the noblewoman."You ask much and have delivered very little. Why should we continue to entrust our lives to you?"

"I am surprised that you would challenge me in this manner, Sarevok." Mellissan defended herself. "I know much of you, Anchev. I knew of you when you lived the first time. Can you not agree that sometimes, when dealing with the Children of Bhaal…sometimes…the ends must justify the means? This, I fear, is my only offer to you."

"Then tell us what must be done, and we shall do everything in our power to make it happen." Greywulf answered, slightly unnerved by the constant jibes and prods between the two of them.

Mellissan's face blossomed into a smile of relief. "Thank you, Greywulf, for your trust. I promise that you shall not regret what you do here. As your friends have suggested, the army outside must be destroyed. The main force of soldiers itself is immaterial- if you fought your way to Yaga-Shura and defeated him, the rest would collapse."

"Minsc was worried for a moment." the ranger chuckled, checking the edge of his axe. "Boo and Minsc have felled giants before! Some of them walk taller, and some of them walk stronger, but no giant walks louder than Minsc!!"

"I am glad you find the task to be easy, but I assure you it will prove anything but." Mellissan said coldly, folding her arms beneath her dirty blue robes, her beautiful features icy at the subject of the enemy of everything she'd worked for. "He is a powerful fire giant, as you say, but the 'gifts' his blood has passed to him include invulnerability to harm. Arrows, blades - even the most powerful of our spells and enchanted weapons leave no permanent mark. He heals faster than we can wound him."

"That's... going to be a problem." Imoen frowned. "Are you telling us Yaga-Shura is invincible?"

"Yaga-Shura was not born with this immunity. He developed it, learned it somehow during his childhood spent in a secret glade in the Forest of Mir. I can show you where that glade is on a map…but it is only speculation. The key to the giant's invulnerability might lay there, but it might not. There may be nothing there at all." Mellissan shrugged.

"And what if this glade of yours is nothing more than an empty swamp?" Sarevok challenged. "What then?"

"Then there is only one other place to look, though it is far more dangerous." she warned. "Yaga-Shura has attracted a large number of fanatical devotees of his kind. They worship him as a god, as you can well imagine. They built a temple to him in the Marching Mountains, though many of them are in his army, now…that may mean the temple is vulnerable to your attack. Perhaps Yaga-Shura's secret is hidden there. I know little else of the temple."

"For the one who claims to protect the Bhaalspawn, you're not really making this easy on us. In my experiences, going into situations like these without reliable info ends in disaster." Greywulf forced out, admittedly hesitant to rush into potentially deadly locales without any measure of certainty. "Why do you think any of this will pan out in the end?"

"Because if it doesn't," she said with a pained look on her face, "Then all the poor Bhaalspawn that I have tried to aid, including you, are doomed. Yaga-Shura and his allies will have their way. We must have hope."

Greywulf allowed himself a brief smile. "I understand that, at least; I told those same words to a friend long ago… holding onto hope. Very well. We shall destroy this 'invincible' fire giant, whatever it takes."

"I…know it is much to ask of you." she admitted. "Whether it means anything to you or not: thank you. Now… if you would, send me back to Saradush. There is must that must still be done there, and I have tarried overlong in this dreadful place as it stands now."

Greywulf nodded, raising a hand and focusing the energy within, the power focused upon his taint... the maw that guarded the entrance and exit to the plane opened wide and enveloped Mellissan in a blinding flash of light. Even as she traveled through time and space, passing through dimensions to return to the mortal realm, the two apprentices of Errard ascended the stairs of the city's walls. As explosions rocked the weakening shield surrounding the city, both apprentices drew daggers, concealing them inside the sleeves of their robes.

Errard's eyes were closed, his concentration devoted fully to sustaining the protection of the city. Still, he sensed the approach of the two men he had trained and taught- he kept his eyes closed, sweat rolling down his face as he spoke. "What is so important, my students, that you would interrupt me while I lead the defense of this god-forsaken city? Speak quickly!"

The two men exchanged wicked glances, and lunged forward as one. Twin streaks of blood stained the stone walkway upon the walls of the city, and in moments, explosions and catapult rounds began rocking the walls of the city, sending stone and brick and mortar crumbling to the ground. Screams began echoing through the city- the walls had been breached, and as Yaga-Shura walked through the gaping hole in the wall, arrows and lightning bolts striking him from all sides, he simply threw his head back and laughed, raising his war hammer high. The slaughter was about to begin.


	16. Part 1: History's Repetition

The temperature in the Pocket Plane was a low chill, and there was little difference whether on one side or the other of the cavernous void that the rocky platform supported them within. Perhaps it was simply an internal chill from the numerous howls that seemed to echo till forever in the green, cloud filled skies, or maybe the reptilian pupils staring from multi-colored eyes lining the rocks of their home. Regardless, the man walking across the platform tugged his gray cloak tighter around him, wrapping himself in the cloth, as though trying to keep himself secluded, separate from everything around him.

He knew the others were watching, wondering... why. And it was a question he wasn't entirely sure he had the answer to, in truth. All he knew was that it was the right thing to do. For himself? For them? For Faerun? That was another question. He'd had a lot of those lately, far too many unanswered. Hopefully, he was about to get a few of them squared away. Greywulf slowly, methodically, descended the path leading to the first of the challenges that his own world had treated him to- also the only challenge that had yet to unlock and submit to the 'mastery' he held over this realm. The other four portals remained mystically closed, but here, in this place where he had fought and battled alongside the one he had called mortal enemy for so long, he was master. And whether a response to his desire or to his nature, the demonic influences inside had dissipated as of late. The eyes were shut, the jagged fangs had retracted and left remarkable flat walls, a granite room that would make an artist envious of the craftsmanship of the smooth rock surfaces.

Greywulf spotted the man he had come to this private place to speak with, standing opposite of him, his face to the wall and hands clasped behind him. Sarevok had taken to using this secluded location as a place to meditate- a place where he could be free of the presence of those who, admittedly, had little time for him and his influences. Still, this place was perfect for the conversation that needed to happen... for Greywulf's sake, if nothing else. The sorcerer's footfalls were enough to alert the Deathbringer of his presence, but apparently not enough to draw his full attention. Just another little personality quirk that irritated him to death.

The world rippled around him, and Sarevok smirked ever so slightly, knowing what had just happened. He turned, pulling out the wooden chair from the simple table that Greywulf had hand-waved into existence, running one hand over the wood as though it would disappear the moment he stopped paying attention. Greywulf sat across him, the sorcerer's green eyes glinting in the shadows as he met his brother's gaze. Sarevok spoke first, making no effort to hide the satisfaction he felt in this situation. "Impressive work, brother... though your talents are wasted on frivolous items like these. Surely your imp servant told you of the reaches that your power in this realm could command?"

"Cespenar told me what I'm capable of here." Greywulf nodded, keeping his tone level, trying to stay civil and keep emotion out of the conversation for as long as possible. Not an easy task when dealing with a man who had tried on numerous occasions to take his head off. "He also told me what kind of power it takes to keep this place up and running, even if it's only done unconsciously. I think a table and some chairs will do for now."

"Pfeh." Sarevok snorted, dismissive of the caution shown by his perceived-to-be-weaker sibling. "You hesitate yet again? I had thought you learned your lesson well enough at Jhaeri's dwelling. Or was Ardic's death meaningless to you?"

The casual mention of the young man's death was not lost on Greywulf, and if one looked closely, they could spy the fire rising in Greywulf's eyes already. "I didn't know you cared so much. That's not like you."

"That's because I don't care about the boy, or his mother, or that city." Sarevok retorted, yellow eyes darkening to a dim glow in the shadow. "You and your potential are what concern me. And what effects these... distractions, have upon you. You speak of your power as if it were something to be feared, to be hidden. But you know all that is changing, don't you? It's why you're here to speak with me, after all."

The heart of the matter... he was right, really. Whatever power was being derived from the taint was becoming more than a simple gut feeling, a small whisper in his head that could be blocked out. The taint was growing stronger- much like when his soul was taken by Irenicus, the voice of the Slayer found its way into his waking mind more and more these days. "You know me too well. We brought you with us for a reason, and it's time to show us we weren't crazy for letting you tag along. What happened to Imoen and me?"

Sarevok did not answer immediately- he paused, considering his words before leaning backward, shaking his head ever so slightly. He was toying with him- and that thought made Greywulf angry. _**"Good." **_No- no, Greywulf blinked a moment, wondering he had really just heard that deep bass tone around him, or if it was all in his head.

"I shall answer your question- but answer me first." Sarevok challenged, glancing toward the entrance of the cavern they sat in together. "You know how much your companions value your life, your future. Our dear sister is as involved in this matter as you... why then did you request- demand, even- that we meet alone?"

That question again- and once again, just like five minutes prior, Greywulf didn't have an answer. At least, not an answer that led anywhere he wanted to go. Telling Sarevok that, however, wasn't really an option. He put on a confident face, or at least a mask that knew what he was talking about, and replied calmly, "You think I'm a fool? I know how much you love tormenting them. And you don't respect Imoen, no matter how much she might have earned it. I'm the only one here you might be willing to treat like an equal, so drop the act."

"Haha... perhaps I should say the same?" his sibling mocked, dark laughter reverberating all around them. "I deceived thousands when I tried to conquer Baldur's Gate. I can tell when someone lies to my face, brother. And you, for all your skills and talents, cannot lie to me. I know why you hide your weaker sister from our discussion. Why you exclude those you claim to trust."

"Enlighten me, then. You claim to know what's going in my head so well... take your best shot." Greywulf challenged, oddly intrigued by what Sarevok would have to offer. Not that he really felt his murderous sibling would be able to offer any useful insight... but the man had surprised him before. What harm could there be?

Sarevok reclined back in his chair for a moment, tapping one finger on the side of his bald, tattooed head. "I had been wondering for some time who you reminded me of. A nagging, obnoxious familiarity that made me dig into my memories to see just who you mirrored. Then it struck me- you remind me of myself... before I was slaughtered and cast into the Abyss."

The big man paused a moment, waiting expectantly for the sorcerer to speak, but when nothing came, a glimmer of surprise showed on Sarevok's features. "Well then. No quick retort? No vehement, clichéd denial? Good then, that you understand your fears. Your hesitation- wondering just when those you trust and love will begin to see the same things they loathe in me beginning to show themselves in you."

That was enough to draw him out, just as Sarevok had known it would- Greywulf was far too predictable. The cloaked and hooded sorcerer leaned in, his voice dark and raspy as though afraid the others would hear their conversation, far away as they were. "You're a murderer who kills for power. That has never been my goal, and it never will be."

"Really? Are you certain?" Sarevok leered for a moment, smirking as he folded his broad arms. "How many men have you killed? Men who had families, who were, perhaps, guarding a man based not on their own beliefs or convictions, but solely for the money they would receive? Money to feed or clothe their children. Men who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time... that being in your path."

Ridiculous. He was stretching the limits of incredulity, just trying to make up reasons for him to feel guilty, trying to draw the connection between them... and yet, damn it all if there wasn't a bit of truth to those taunts. Greywulf felt his throat tighten, readying himself to speak again, before the Deathbringer cut him off once more. "And do not tell me you have forgotten your role in the destruction of Brynnlaw. I was impressed to hear of that, brother... an entire island? It almost puts my past accomplishments to shame."

"Enough." Greywulf snapped, inwardly wondering just how much more he would be able to take from this infuriating man. "You say I've changed and you're damn right. But I'm not turning into you... it's something far more terrible than you ever were. And for all your goads and taunts, you'd be mighty sorry if I ever gave in to that voice in my head right now."

His words didn't quite make sense on first inspection- Sarevok nodded in realization, and despite himself, felt a touch of hesitation. The cold steel in Greywulf's voice spoke to how far he had pushed him. Still, as he had told his siblings earlier, he had not gotten to where he was in life without taking risks. And in the end, provoking the man who had killed him twice now might be one of the riskiest things he'd ever done.

"You speak of the avatar of Bhaal that you have mastered. The Slayer... it strikes me as slightly unfair that you were chosen to receive its power while I languished in human form all my days as a Bhaalspawn."

Greywulf almost laughed aloud at that statement- as if he had any sort of 'mastery' over the Slayer. He had thought, for a time, that it was gone. Or at least, under control so long as he was in possession of his soul. And ever since Irenicus had been defeated and his soul restored, the voice of the Slayer had been lessened, almost banished. But lately-

"If you have anything important to say, then I would have you speak now." Greywulf growled, pushing away all the confusion and uncertainty he felt away. "I'll ask you once more- what happened to us?"

Silence for a time, and Greywulf began to think that Sarevok had no intention of helping him, only to try and get into his head time and time again; he was nearly ready to stand and turn his back on the man for good, damning him to whatever fate he wanted, so long as it was far away from him and the rest of the party- "The first thing you must understand, brother, is the nature of the taint. Bhaal did not *intend* for one of his children to become the new Lord of Murder. They were intended to resurrect him through ancient rituals and practices- I confess my knowledge of his resurrection is limited, as it was never my intention. My goal was to steal the power, much as it has been for every other Bhaalspawn that seeks to depart this mortal coil."

Greywulf glared as he listened, Sarevok continuing with a grunt as he shifted the dragon scale armor he was wearing. "When a Bhaalspawn dies, their portion of the taint leaves this realm and is collected within the Throne of Bhaal... which as you are no doubt aware, is not simply an idea, or a concept. The Throne of Bhaal is a place, a plane where Bhaal ruled supreme and lorded over the murderers, the killers, those who fed his worship and divinity. The essence of Bhaal was meant to collect within the Throne, and when it had all been restored, when every Bhaalspawn had given up their portion to the throne of their dead father, the resurrection, however it was to have been performed, would commence."

"But when Gromnir died, the taint didn't go to the Throne..." Greywulf murmured, his ire beginning to cool as he studied the facts and listened to this new information.

"Precisely." Sarevok smiled thinly. "And why do you think that is?"

He looked up to meet his brother's glowing yellow eyes, and could not provide an answer. The Deathbringer let the silence hang in the air for almost a minute, then spoke, cutting through the question though strangely enough, without the inflexible smugness and superiority that Greywulf had grown accustomed to hearing from his sibling.

"Here is where my absolute knowledge ends and I am forced to take something of an... educated guess. There are two possibilities that I have seen- one is simple, and as such might be the easiest possibility to swallow."

"Being?"

"That access to the Throne has been cut off." Sarevok replied calmly. "If the taint were unable to return to the Throne for some reason... whatever that may be, it would naturally seek the closest vessel to dwell within. You and Imoen, the two Bhaalspawn in the room."

"And the other possibility?"

Sarevok chuckled, pushing back from the table and walking past Greywulf, towards the exit. "You remember my plans to become the Lord of Murder. To murder enough, to spill through blood through the war that I would be considered the most worthy of the godspawn- those I had not killed yet- of inheriting the essence of Bhaal. That by becoming the embodiment of Murder, the taint would naturally flow to me, as quite literally, Bhaal reborn."

Greywulf felt a chill enter his body as Sarevok paused a moment, tossing one final statement behind him before ascending the stairway back to the rocky platform where the others waited. "If this is the case... then congratulations on taking my place for your own."

Even as he walked alone, leaving the sorcerer alone in the dark, Sarevok could not contain the hope that had been kindled anew within him. Both possibilities were valid, true enough... but there was no way in all the Hells that Greywulf, as he stood now, was the most worthy. He had simply thrown that last parting shot as a way of further unnerving his brother, of continuing his psychological war. In all likelihood, it was due to some force cutting the Throne off from the mortal plane. What could cause that... still unknown to him. But more important was the prospect of the taint seeking a vessel in the absence of the Throne to settle within. For Gromnir's death, the taint had sensed two powerful vessels nearby- Greywulf and Imoen. But if those two hadn't been there? If the only presence of a vessel nearby was that small, insignificant portion that tethered Sarevok to the world?

Sarevok suppressed the urge to laugh aloud. He had a new theory to test. And who knew? Perhaps, if it turned out to be true... his chances of taking the Throne of Bhaal for himself were not as out of reach as he had first thought. And not just the Throne... revenge could be a sweet bonus, should he be given the opportunity. He glanced behind him, Greywulf finally following, the man several paces back on the stairway. His gaze moved to the Sword of Chaos, hanging at his side. Yes... revenge could be sweet indeed.

X X X X X X

The raucous din of the city was nothing if not louder near the city gates, and it was a struggle to even be heard over the crowds of travelers and peddlers making their way in and out of the City of Coin. Animal traders herding their flocks, farmers carting their produce. Blacksmiths hauling supplies and wares, noblemen riding horses and surrounded by entourages wearing expensive clothes and jewelry while pigs and oxen trampled through the mud right beside. The gates of Athkatla were biased to no man, so long as there was gold to be spent and traded within its walls.

Pacing back and forth like nervous fathers awaiting the birth of their first child, town criers made their rounds near the entrance to the city, bumping past fat men hocking their wares and simple peasants trying to make their way in and out. Above their continuous shouts of the local news of the day, spread far and wide regardless of truth or accuracy, three men tried to make their way through the throngs and to simply hear one another amidst the clamor.

"Surely you do not think we are moving too hastily? T'was only a fortnight prior when I received word of my latest posting in the shipyards." Reynald shouted up towards Anomen, trying with a great deal of frustration to avoid getting pushed back by the flood of bodies, like a human tide. "Chief Inspector Brega did not appear too pleased with my sudden resignation from the city guard."

"No, I suppose he did not." Anomen replied with a glance behind him as he nodded with forced courtesy to each citizen he bumped into in turn as he forced a path through the masses, his armor making him even bulkier than his muscular physique would have done. Still, it was best he stay in the lead- while Solaufein's bulk might have done just as well in helping cut a swath through their ranks, there was always the chance his hood might be undone in the commotion and a panic ensue from anyone who spotted his lineage.

The drow, for himself, was sorely tempted to use the stone he kept in his pocket and dimension door past the multitudes and simply wait for his new companions outside the gate, but once again, any sort of sudden abnormality was as likely to cause trouble as not. More than likely he would be labeled by the Cowled Wizards as some kind of magical deviant. That would be an ironic twist of events, he supposed, though there was little danger of him being shipped off to Spellhold, such as it was. The island fortress had been destroyed by the Githyanki along with the rest of Brynnlaw, and in the process many of the most powerful members of the Cowled Wizards had been struck down by the elven sorcerer Irenicus. They had not been seen meddling in the affairs of Athkatla for some time, though there was no chance they had abandoned their position of power within the city for good.

"Do not concern yourself with Brega's dissatisfaction. He has been given my word that the task you set off on is at the height of the concern of the Radiant Heart. What more reason could he need to release you from service without hesitation?" Anomen called out, trying to sound comforting as he muttered another apology to a noblewoman who harrumphed in obvious distaste as Anomen nudged her, before moving off with the rest of her company.

Looking at the still glaring woman Anomen had bumped, Solaufein muttered to Reynald, "No doubt he ruined the dress she had spent some exorbitant amount of coin on to wear once and never again." Even as he spoke, the drow kept one hand at his hood at all times, making certain that it did not become loosened, or the tail of the cloth be stepped on and dragged from round his neck forcibly. "The sooner we have left this city, the better I shall feel. Truly, the streets of Athkatla feel as claustrophobic as my memories of Ust Natha at times."

Reynald did not speak for a moment, and Solaufein automatically knew what the man's next words would be. Or rather, the content of those words. True to his foreknowledge, Reynald spoke, and to his credit it was done with a bit of hesitation and audible respect in his tone. "I have been meaning to inquire of your past, if the mood strikes you to speak thusly. Perhaps not the best of times, I admit, but there is oft no time like the present, yes?"

It was with sincerity that the former knight spoke, and Solaufein could detect no hint of malicious curiosity in the query. Reynald was, quite possibly, the most humble of knights he had met, probably in part due to the indiscretions that had cost him his official title. "It seems fair enough, considering that I know of your past and you know naught of mine, save that I have history with our mutual companion."

Before he could continue, the shouts of the criers nearby finally made their way close enough to be clear to his keen ears- his and Anomen's. A cry erupted from the squire before them, and Anomen's path diverted from a beeline toward the exit to straight towards the little man bellowing his news in the street. The wave of sudden bodies no longer diverted by Anomen's bulk left the two men cursing in frustration, struggling only for a few moments before managing to push themselves up to their companion. "-I hear you correctly, young man? Saradush has fallen?!"

"Aye, that be the long and short of it all!" the gap-toothed teenager nodded with a wink and a nod as he tilted his head upwards so to let his voice carry as he spoke. "The great haven of Tethyr is fallen! Laid to waste by the armies north of Calimshan, the fire giants pouring from the Marching Mountains! All hope of containing the armies is fallen, a slaughter through and through-"

"I can hear you quite well, lad." Anomen said gruffly, taking hold of the boy by his shoulders, motioning him to lower his tone. "The armies of the Radiant Heart were on the way to aid in the siege there- have you any word of their presence or their involvement? Surely they were not also part of the slaughter?"

"Lay off, knighty!" the boy protested, glaring as Anomen finally took his hands off his shoulders, letting him straighten his roughened jacket. "No, they ain't part of the battle. Leastways not from what I heard. Must've run afoul of some o' the other banditry and soldiers on the way there. Lots o' armies popping up here and there nowadays. Bad days to be a crier though! Run my voice near ragged tellin of all the news be happening lately. Even heard tell of the Bhaalspawn in the city- most wiped out in the attack. Maybe even the Scourge of the Sword Coast!"

Anomen paused, that title ringing familiar in his mind. He glanced at the two men standing beside him, looking for any sign of recognition in their faces, and to confirm his fears, he saw Solaufein's normally guarded features take on concern and worry. He grasped the lad again, not caring for his protests or whines. "The Scourge of the Sword Coast! You mean to say that the wards of Gorion were spotted within the walls as well?!"

"Aye, aye! Jus' le go of me, ye oaf!" the lad scowled, nodding. "No idea who lived or died- if'n you want to know so much, why don't ye get yer arse over there and find out, har har!"

Anomen growled in frustration, letting the boy loose and waving for the others to follow- no doubt he meant to speak of the matter once they were clear of the gates and the continuous crowds- they could hear the crier continue his shouts as they left him behind amidst the throngs. They had little opportunity until they had reached the outskirts of the gates, far and away from the outpouring of humanity into the maw of Athkatla. They hiked up hills surrounding the city to the north, where they could overlook the goings-on below them, taking shelter from the afternoon sun beneath a grove of trees. It was Reynald who spoke first, his curiosity getting the better of him. "I had known that you both were acquainted in the past- though it seems there is more to your past association than I had first guessed. You have both taken part in the company of the Bhaalspawn that spared my life when I fought under Anarg's command, have you not?"

"You saw it yourself, so you little need me to confirm it." Anomen sighed, his head drooping as he wiped the sweat from his face, still catching his wind after the exertion of their push out of the city and then the short but tiring hike. "As for Solaufein-"

"I shall explain my past, much as I was prepared to do before the shoutings of the crier took precedence." the drow replied, cutting Anomen off as he turned to Reynald, looking up from beneath his cloak. "I once traveled with the Bhaalspawn, just as Anomen did. It would take far too long to recount all the deeds I was fortunate enough to undertake while in their company, but suffice it to say that I was very much a prisoner in my own city, trapped by the venomous politics and games that choke all that live in the city of Ust Natha. They came, seeking passage to the surface while under the disguise of drow, and I found kindred spirits, despite their masks. They brought me with them to the surface after I had betrayed my kinsmen and helped them escape... it was the best decision of my life, and I regret nothing of it, though life amidst the surface dwellers has become... difficult, at times."

"I can imagine- rather, I cannot, considering how hated the drow are among those above." Reynald nodded, extending a hand to Solaufein in respect. "Well met once more then, upon knowing the trials you have undertaken to come this far."

Solaufein accepted the offer, even as he continued, gesturing at Anomen, "But you still wonder- I can see that much in your eyes. Why between the two of us we have so much curiosity in the location of those we once fought beside? For Anomen, I can only imagine that he would take their aid once more in the venture we embark on right now."

"A fair enough assessment." Anomen nodded, smiling grimly at Reynald. "You have heard what we will face at Watcher's Keep, or at least, what little I know of it. The men and women who were at Saradush, if the crier's tales were true, are the equal of any Knight in the Radiant Heart. More than equal, I dare say, though it pains me. And you, Solaufein? What keeps your heart so close to these?"

The drow did not speak for a time, and it appeared to Reynald that he would not say, but after a time he spoke, his answer one of easy logic and simple affirmation as he thought of the few surfacers he considered friends... as he thought of pinkish red hair, a teasing laugh, and flashing, mischievous eyes. "I am... fond of them."

X X X X X X

In the smoking ruins, the burning remnants of what had once been a shining metropolis of Tethyr, there were screams of pain, shouts of brutality and the acrid smell of blood mingled with burning flesh and smoke to leave a putrid stench hanging over the whole of the city. In Saradush, nobody escaped the hammer of Yaga-Shura and his army. Violence and warfare dominated one and all- and yet, miles away, over hills and forests and plains, there was little sense of the tragedy taking place. Instead, there was a stream running through the wooded clearing, and small creatures scattered this way and that while bear and deer and other animal took their time in the midst of nature's serenity.

Then, as though taking perverse satisfaction in destroying the calm, six pillars of light blossomed into existence, cupping into the ground beneath them and hollowing out a bowl of burned and charred dirt and stone as the blinding light vanished, revealing the Bhaalspawn so recently having left Saradush, escaping the coming fire by a matter of hours. As the discomfort brought on by their arrival lessened, Imoen staggered to one side, supporting herself with a tree as she bent over, coughing once, twice, then looking up with obvious queasiness in her pretty features. "Ugh... not sure I'll ever get used to that kind of thing..."

"No different than a dimension door, really." Greywulf remarked, stepping forward and glancing behind and all around, as though to assure himself they were truly back in the Prime. "Just happy that all six of us are here this time around... we are, aren't we? Good. The question becomes now- where exactly are we?"

Jaheira glanced at the wood, the stream, as though hoping to find some measure of familiarity via nature itself, but she finally admitted defeat, shaking her head. "I am not familiar with this part of Tethyr. You said before we left that you would try to place us on the path out of Saradush, stretching toward the Marching Mountains- if you succeeded, I cannot tell."

"The old fashioned way then. Minsc?"

The ranger nodded and knelt to the ground, peering through the dirt and soil and grass, taking in each measure of nature, hoping to scry some path, some clue within the forest that might direct their road. The rest remained silent while the ranger worked his skillful magic- it was scarce long enough for a quick bite of rations before Minsc raised his head, a look of contented satisfaction across his broad features. "There is a trail leading east, though it is very faint. Minsc does not believe it has been used by travelers or caravans... but there is enough foot trail to warrant a closer look."

Greywulf nodded approvingly, gesturing for the others to join him as Minsc led, or rather, those who had not been privy to his and Sarevok's discussion. The five of them set out upon the trail, the Deathbringer carrying the rear, watching for unseen threats within the intrusive confines of the surrounding forest. There was an seemingly unconscious cluster around Greywulf as they watched for threats, though half of any and all's attention was upon what news their leader had concerning what knowledge he had gained from his time with his brother.

He did not speak immediately, rather content to watch their passage through the forest, eyes flitting back and forth between shadow and tree, constantly on the watch. And really, how could he have been blamed for keeping such a close eye on their safety? How many times had they been taken by surprise despite everything they had learned and seen over the years? Curiosity alone could not compel him to abandon such habits of necessity.

It was only when the tree line began to thin, the trail Minsc had found beginning to spread a bit wider, leading to more open country that Greywulf let his watch falter, finally exhaling as though he had not even known that every breath had been held to capacity before release. Still his friends and companions were clustered around him, waiting impatiently for him to regail them with whatever information Sarevok had seen fit to direct towards him and him alone. The gray robed half-elf spoke with an air of impatience that could have been misconstrued as being at the attention directed his way, "If you're looking for me to tell you that I know everything now, that it all makes so much more sense when thought about from one way or another... you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"Then what did you find out?" Imoen asked, the most curious of any of the listeners, for obvious reasons. He met her questioning gaze, and for a moment felt guilty for even speaking of this to her. She needed to know and would take nothing less than his full disclosure in the matter, but it was a shame that she should even be put into this kind of situation. Imoen was too pure, too bright to be a part of this kind of filth. He felt at times that he was dragging her down with him, that she should leave his side and stay in the realm above that she seemed to inhabit... but there was nothing for it, in the end. She was loyal to a fault, and would never leave his side, no matter how hard he tried to push. Selfish of him to secretly love that quality, but he wasn't above admitting that to himself.

And so he took the time to relate the words Sarevok had told him, sans the taunts and the jibes at him and his family. They listened without reaction, remaining still and unaffected even as he informed them straight facedly that he and Imoen might be considered worthy vessels by the essence of the Lord of Murder from this point on. Even without saying anything, Greywulf could see Imoen's features pale, her pallor diminish as he spoke. He cursed himself once more for stringing her along in his wake, but before he could allow himself any more self-flagellation, Aerie spoke, her elven tones and quiet thoughtfulness serving as a brace to bring them back to earth. "But how? Nothing like this happened when we fought Illasera- she simply vanished. What could have changed between then and our battle with Gromnir?"

"I don't know," Greywulf murmured, his eyes finally turning to them all with a haunted look in his gaze. "I don't know what's happening, I don't know how to stop it, anything..."

It was a rare sight to see him, usually so confident and so full of energy, looking so hopeless, so powerless. As though he was reaching the end of his wit and skill- and it was not enough. Imoen leaned in and wrapped one arm around his shoulder as they walked, the others lending their support silently, through their mere presence, and it was enough. Imoen whispered quietly as the two leaned in to one another, their heads touching gently. "I'm glad yer with me, Greywulf."

One moment of support and peace among so much confusion and fear and that was all that was granted them as Minsc stopped his tracking, looking up with a jerk and sniffing the air with a narrowing of his eyes. "Minsc smells smoke- but Saradush is far west of here. Boo fears that something is not right..."

As the ranger's words took every one of them by surprise, trying to discern in the moment what it all meant, Jaheira looked down connecting the faint trail, too far out of the way for hikers or caravans, but well-used enough to suggest significant travel, and it all suddenly clicked. "What fools we are! Hurry, there may yet be time to save them!"

Jaheira's cryptic shout was enough to spur them onward, but no time or chance was given for the druid's explanation, as she and Minsc took lead, darting through the trail's path, breaking through the ever clearing wood until they saw daylight- and a grisly sight to go with. A caravan of wagons and carts alongside the main road, passing outside the forest they had just broken from, had been brutally set afire, the men and women who had been leading and traveling alongside lying on the ground in pools of blood with arrows sticking from their body. Surrounding piles of fine linens and chests, undoubtedly containing the gold gained on these murdered merchants' travels, were half a dozen men, dressed in dark green and wearing hoods, their weapons sheathed, their bows hung on their backs. Brigands, caught flat-footed for a change.

At the raucous sound of the adventurers bursting through the wood, they all turned to spot the new arrivals, and for a brief second both groups stared one another down, neither speaking or moving in the sudden stillness. Of course it was bandits- that's who was using the trail they had been traveling on. It led out to the main road, perfect for an ambush, leading deep into the wood where any pursuing guards could be easily lost or picked off one at a time. Only a ranger could have followed the trail to completion as they had done- and with a shout of warning, one of the brigands went for his bow.

He never got a chance to pull an arrow from his quiver, as Aerie's powers were only a gesture and an incantation away. A lightning bolt sizzled through the air, the acrid stench of ozone burning in the air as the man's body twitched and spasmed with the striking, and he fell limply to the ground, smoke beginning to curl from his extremities. The other five fared little better- the instantaneous death of one of their comrades did little for their morale or for their ability to recover quickly from being caught so unprepared. Minsc had already thrown himself across the distance between them, the man he'd targeted just managing to get his sword unsheathed before the Rashemani fell upon him, a downswing from the Githyanki Vorpal Sword neatly cutting through the blade with the first strike, leaving his opponent holding a hilt with half a blade before the ranger's second stroke fell. As the man's upper half slid off his lower, Minsc spun with the gesture, neatly decapitating a third.

The others quickly gave Minsc a wider berth, weapons finally at the ready, for all the good it had done them. Imoen's bow had felled a fourth, and Jaheira's dagger spun across the gap, planting itself in a fifth's chest. He gasped with bugged eyes at the hilt protruding from his breast, before Jaheira appeared at his side, yanking it out as she combined it with an upswing from her spear shaft, sending the dying man to his back. The only one left had no choice- he had seen the deaths of five men he had worked with in less than ten seconds, and he made the only choice that represented a manner of sanity. He threw down his sword, falling before them, clamoring backwards as Greywulf strode towards him, his lips drawn in a thin, cold line.

"Please, no!! I don' want to die! I give up, I swear!" he pleaded, his features frozen with fear. "I won' work for Yaga-Shura no more, I swear! I won tell him yer out here!"

"Yaga-Shura?" Greywulf's eyes widened and a growl began echoing in his throat as his quarterstaff swung out to pin the man's throat to the ground. "You know who we are? That Yaga-Shura is looking for us?!"

"Of-of course!" he whimpered, eyes unable to leave the tip of the staff pressing against him, the long strands of his black hair growing brown as he still tried to slide backwards in the dust and dirt. "There's... t-there's a price on yer head! Yaga-Shura wants you and yer fellows dead..."

"And this caravan? These innocents? Did Yaga-Shura want them dead too?" Greywulf spat, pressing harder as he gestured back at the desecrated corpses behind him.

"Naw, no!! We was just... jus'-" he never got to finish. Greywulf pressed harder, cutting off any more words. Aerie frowned, biting her lip as she tried not to say anything, trying to trust in the benevolent, kind man she knew... as the sounds of the brigand choking echoed around her, she protested quietly, just quietly enough to be heard, "Greywulf... he's no threat. He surrendered..."

He looked down at the terrified bandit, so cowardly when faced with his own death. He looked back at the dead traders, their bodies thrown carelessly among the wood to be burned. He glanced behind him at Aerie's face, afraid at what she was seeing. He looked at Sarevok, nodding in approval. Greywulf looked down at the man, his sword lying a few feet away- and in a moment of horrific clarity, Greywulf saw his own reflection in the gleaming of the blade, and it was not a dirty, sweat stained half-elf who looked back. It was a demonic visage, a smile of terrible and unending needle-like teeth. It was the Slayer- and in that moment he knew just how much the infusion of Gromnir's taint had affected him.

He felt Jaheira's hand on his arm, saw the concern in her eyes, and with more effort than he would have like to admit, pulled back his staff. Silently, wordlessly, he walked past, wrapping himself in the cloak he wore, the others reluctantly following, leaving a weeping man on the ground behind them. Sarevok followed behind, watching Greywulf with disgust and dismay. He slowed his gait until the others were far enough ahead; they would not look back to make sure he was following at the rear, not when their beloved friend and leader was so embattled within himself. He paused beside the quivering brigand and knelt down, reaching for the newly terrified man's throat. After a brief moment, Sarevok was back on the trail with his companions.

X X X X X X

The sound of a wolf howling against the moonlit night sky was enough to send a chill down the listeners spines, if only due to the aura of evil and foreboding that surrounded them as the ground below their feet began to diverge from the outer trail that led through this section of earth into packed dirt and matted grass, signs of a singular trail leading to something else entirely. Greywulf pushed aside a bramble that was in his way, nudging it with his staff. They had found more burned wagons and remnants of another caravan put to the torch, no doubt by the same brigands they had dispatched. Still, this one had a singular man left alive, a trader that had escaped execution by feigning death while his fellows were slain all around him. He told them of one of their destinations- an ancient temple of Bhaal, crumbling amidst the Forest of Mir. It was said to be a dark and deserted place, one in which demons and evils spread their malice without fear of reprisal or retribution. An unsafe place, to say the least, but in the dead of night, their approach seemed ill-timed and ill-favored.

Perhaps in another time or in another sense, Greywulf might've minimized their risk and held them back until the break of day, but he was a man out for vengeance or blood... or perhaps both. The cold fire in his gaze was seen by several men, usually before he put them to the sword or immolated them with sorcery. It was a startling change when compared to the usual twinkle of humor or cheery glance in his smooth features. No- he was a changing man, and it was not for the better, most of his companions would say. What was there, though, to say indeed? That he was venturing down a dark path, one in which he might not be equipped to return from? He knew that well enough, and given half a choice would undoubtedly return everything to its prior state, the fates of the Bhaalspawn be damned. But it was not for him to decide, nor for his companions. As before, their presence and a few words of encouragement would have to be enough.

The forest of Mir, pressing in from all sides as they began the long path leading up to the broken-down gates outside the walled in Temple ruins. Despite avoiding any of the legendary shades or demonic forest present within the forest, it was still a most unpleasant journey. It was covered in shadow and brush, vines and thorns sprouting from everywhere and nowhere at once. Even with the almost nonexistent lighting, their path was clear before them. Greywulf grunted, pushing past another cluster of vines, his staff setting down on the ground with a clack rather than a thud. He allowed himself a tight smile of relief as his boot hit brick rather than earth, a sure sign they were drawing close to the first of their destinations. The Temple was the only structure in this desolate and dark forest, and judging from the opening path they were coming upon, they had found it. A long stretch of brick, half-buried in the earth beneath them led to a fog covered structure nearly thirty yards in the distance. The inside could not be seen clearly, as remnants of crumbling walls still encircled the outer perimeter, covered in moss and vines. Gargoyles of stone and obsidian design, twisted and warped by time or design, none were certain, still perched on the standing pieces of wall, glaring down at the approaching group with their unholy glares. The gate that had been connected to the two pillars marking the main entrance was torn down and lay on the ground, though the symbol engraved on each pillar was still discernable; a skull surrounded by teardrops of blood- the symbol of Bhaal.

"I feel a great evil within this place, Greywulf." Aerie whispered as they crept closer. "This place is twisted... everything, so dark."

"This was a Temple of Bhaal once." Sarevok's voice cut roughly through the thick night air in reply to Aerie's comment. "Many sacrifices and rituals were performed here by the acolytes and priests of Bhaal… the aura of darkness that is present will not begin to dissipate for many more years."

Still, nothing challenged them as they made their way up the path, finally reaching the gate opening itself. Minsc drew his sword, trying to see past the fog that obscured any possible sight inside the Temple from without. Suddenly, a sound began issuing faintly from within, echoing to their ears as it grew louder. It was heavy and rhythmic, and it was soon clearly footsteps, the sound of one striding out from the temple court, emerging from the mists before them, hooded and cloaked in gray and green robes. His identity was not discernable with the hood down as the man stopped before them, blocking further entrance into the Temple. Greywulf frowned as he looked over the man, his garb familiar, despite the identity of the man unknown… then he raised his hands and pulled his cloak down. The mustached and bearded face, the strong brow and wise features, he looked just as he had seen him before. Of course, the last time he had seen him outside of a dream or vision had been in a clearing near Candlekeep, dead at the hands of Sarevok.

"Halt. Go no further. I wish to speak with you, my old ward."

The sight of his old mentor, his *father,* for all intents and purposes was as shocking to him as it must have been to Imoen- but he was too frustrated, too clouded, and just too damned pissed to care. "Out of my way, spectre. You're not Gorion. You can't be."

"And why not?" the figure asked grimly. "Have others from your past not been raised up once again, returning to your life in a manner so similar to this? Or do you simply refuse to accept my reality because you know how much you have shamed me! You have forgotten all that I had taught you, all that I brought you up to be!"

"That's a lie!" Imoen shouted, anger blazing at the memories of their father being twisted so cruelly. "Gorion wouldn't say that- yer nothing but a fake! A liar-"

"Or is it you who lie to yourself!" Gorion declared. "I tried to save you from your destinies. I tried to turn the two of you into a force for good. And what have you done? Carved a path of blood and murder wherever you go! You are a disappointment. You were supposed to be so much more- you were supposed to be something greater, and yet in the end you murdered even I!"

He raised a finger, and flames erupted around Imoen and Greywulf, Jaheira almost leaping forward in concern for their safety, but a bubble of magic grew from Greywulf's incantations, surround him and Imoen, pushing the fire away into nothingness. The sorcerer half-elf spat on the ground, shaking his head with disgust. "Parlor tricks. You're nothing like Gorion."

"You would mock me? I saved you, Greywulf!" Gorion declared angrily, his voice growing deeper and darker as he spoke. "I hid you from those who would hunt you. I taught you and enabled you to become what you are. I *died* for you. And you have failed me and everything I hoped you would be. That is why I am murdered by you. You think this animal, Sarevok, is responsible for my death? I expect no better from him. He is a slave to ambition, and yet you resurrect him and hail him as comrade."

"Watch your tone, old man." Sarevok growled, drawing the Sword of Chaos to bear. "I cut you down once… I bear no remorse and will not hesitate to do so again."

"Enough!" Greywulf boomed, pointing his staff at the specter. "You're better than most, I'll give you that much. You know just how to get inside my head, just which buttons to push and what strings to pull when it comes to Imoen and me. But I've been facing fakes like you for more than five years. I've heard them all, seen them all, and let me tell you- I'm not impressed."

A boom of magic erupted from his hand, sending Gorion flying into a crumbling wall, sinking to the ground before looking up with feral rage. "And what of your companions? Surely they know the pain and loss that you bring to them. How many more must come to grief before you see I am correct? How many must die?"

Gorion's eyes glowed red and Greywulf frowned as he realized that the old wizard's gaze was not him, but... Jaheira? He swung around, shouting a warning, but it was too late. Her features were stricken, and she could see and hear nothing aside from the visions that Gorion was plaguing her with.

_"J-jaheira? Is…is that you?"_

_Jaheira's eyes widened, her face froze in a combination of fear and disbelief, facing the figure of her dead husband. "Khalid? No…this cannot be…" _

_"Why did you d-d-do it, my love? Why did you k-kill me? Why?" he stuttered sorrowfully, gazing at her._

_"Khalid would not say such a thing! I did not kill him, I did not!!" Jaheira shouted in alarm, backpedaling in horror._

_"You…you insisted so on f-f-following G-Gorion's ward…to h-help him. Did…d-d-did you love him even then, Jaheira? D-d-did you leave me for him?" his accusing tone sent to Jaheira to the ground, on her knees as she buckled under the accusations._

_"No! No, my Khalid…do not think that! I loved you, but you were gone! Gone!" _

_"I…I am n-n-not even c-c-cold in the ground! And you are w-with him! You n-n-never loved me, Jaheira! You never loved me and you wanted me to die!!" he shouted, pointing the finger at Jaheira as she dropped her spear, covering her ears in anguish, tears beginning to stream from her face._

_"No! This is not real! Khalid would know…he would know what I felt! (sob!) What I always felt! Greywulf, make this stop!"_

Greywulf cursed with unbridled rage as the magical protection surrounding him and Imoen vanished, the two Bhaalspawn leaping forward to strike the rapidly darkening wraith that was taking Gorion's place. Even as he tried to cut the distance between them, he could hear Aerie's screams behind him, her eyes red and flashing as she clutched at visions in her mind.

_"Aerie? Oh, my Aerie...is it really you?"_

_Aerie covered her mouth, unable to believe her eyes. "M-mother?! Oh, mother!! What...how can it be you? Where are your wings?!"_

_"Oh, my dear Aerie. Did you think I would not search for you, search for my own child?" the elven woman cried out, reaching out to Aerie, the gulf between them like an eternity of darkness._

_"You...? I didn't know, Mama, I...."_

_"Of course I did, my poor child. I searched over the land for many, many months. In vain. In the end, human wizards took my wings and I was murdered." she said, a tinge of venom entering her soft tones._

_"No! Mama, don't say that! That didn't happen!! Wizards couldn't have murdered you, n-no!!" Aerie stuttered in denial._

_"They took my wings for their spells, but they did not murder me. You did, child. Your foolishness in saving the human was the knife to my heart. You murdered your mother."_

_"No! No, please, no!"_

The Master Wraith hissed at the approach of the remaining members of the party, led by Greywulf and Imoen, death in their eyes. He reached out with a hiss, clenching an ethereal fist, and Minsc's charge slowed, his eyes dimming a dark crimson. As his cries of fear and regret echoed all around, he unleashed the full extent of his powers upon Greywulf and Imoen. The only one left was Sarevok, at the rear but approaching swiftly- he would be next.

Imoen's breath caught in her throat as she began to falter, shaking her head as the world blurred. "No! Greywulf, it's trying to... trying to do the same to us-"

"It won't." he said grimly, closing his eyes as the world around him faded. Deep down he felt the beckoning of the beast within, felt the power of Bhaal waiting to banish the darkness and the mental enslavement that drove past logic and took hold of their minds, despite everything they knew to be true. It might be their only shot- but the promise he'd made to Jaheira?

Before he could make a choice, he could feel the power of the Master Wraith fade, and when he dared open his eyes once more, he saw Sarevok beside the undead specter, switching forms like a doppelganger between Gorion, Khalid, Dynaheir... Tamoko? It finally returned to its true form, screaming noiselessly as ectoplasm spilled from the mammoth blade jammed into its form, and with a final grunt, Sarevok yanked the blade upwards through its head.

He snarled as smoke erupted from the ethereal corpse, fading in the night air- Greywulf turned back to the others, the light in their eyes vanishing as they returned to reality. In their faces he saw fear, shame, and anger. But what he saw most was how close they had come to breaking. All of them. They followed his cue, and until he got himself under control, there would be no safety. No rest for any of them. He grit his teeth, clenched his fist and closed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he dared- and once more they vanished from sight, disappearing to the Pocket Plane.


	17. Part 1: Keeping the Faith

_Author's Note: Man, these last few chapters have been real downers, haven't they? I'll try and bring some semblance of happiness back to their lives soon... how long it lasts, that's debatable. Regardless, my thanks go out again to everyone who's reading! And if you have the time or inclination, reviews are, as always, appreciated._

Wraiths. Wights. Ghosts. Hollow Men. Every culture, every nation had a name for those empty spirits that haunted the living. Strange, that so much effort was put into filling the idea of something that was so... empty, in reality. As he mulled the different names around in his head, Greywulf couldn't help but stop at 'hollow men,' letting the wording flitter back and forth in his brain, absentmindedly contemplating the meaning as well as the connotations that it served.

That was after all, what they'd been subjected to a moment ago. Wraiths, hollow things. Empty spirits with no identity of their own, forced to take on the lives and forms and shapes of those who had lived in order to accomplish anything in their stolen time in this Plane. Almost sad. Pathetic. But they'd taken sacred forms. Forms that meant something to them- all of them. The moment they had done that, any sense of sympathy or understanding had been replaced with disgust, indignation, and most of all, rage. But perhaps, in the end, Greywulf should be thanking them. Not for what they had done to Jaheira and Imoen and Aerie and the rest. No, they were all three struggling to recover from the attacks on their psyches. The striking of a hammer blow to the foundations of everything they held true of the ones they'd loved and cherished in both memory and deed.

And even though it was just that- hollow- there was no way that there couldn't be, at the very least, a hairline fracture in the trust and belief they'd held. Maybe a small one. One that could possibly be ignored and pushed away like it didn't exist. But it was there, and no amount of denial would cover that up. And Greywulf was, in his own little way, glad for it. Glad for what? That he wasn't alone, that there were others around him now that held the same doubts and mistrust of their past and their family that he held? That the worries he constantly struggled against were now worries his companions could relate to? No- he wasn't quite that petty, and even if he was, he cared about his 'family', Jaheira and Imoen in particular, too much for it. No, he was glad for it because it gave *him* an excuse. Give him an enemy, and he'd immediately try and come up with a way to neutralize it on a bad day, or come up with an insult to taunt it on a good one. Give him an impossible situation, and he'd try to do the impossible. He might fail, but he'd give it a go. But that wasn't what he'd been given lately. Not at all.

Greywulf plodded silently toward the woman, trembling only every now and then, who sat alone in a far corner of the Pocket Plane he sustained through the power of his taint. His taint. This entire place was one giant reminder of what he'd been forced to deal with as of late. What Gromnir's death had awakened inside him. The power of Bhaal was growing stronger within him, forcing him to face his inner demons- a particularly vocal, scaly one included- and that was something he'd never been good at. Keeping them locked away for so long- having them ripped open and exposed to the light of day was like peeling back the scab of a wound, and it burned within him every time he tried to deal with it.

She heard his approach- how couldn't she, this was the same woman who could go from totally asleep to mentally combat ready in a matter of seconds- and turned her head just slightly so that he could see the redness to her eyes. She'd been crying. Not that she would admit it. The moment they had arrived back in the Pocket Plane, she'd stormed off alone, refusing to speak to him or anyone else. It wasn't a surprise. He'd expected it, rather. Everyone sought solace in their own way- Minsc was the selfless knight in shining armor for Aerie, once again playing the broken bird, though he imagined she'd immolate anyone who called her that to her face now. She took refuge from her fears in his massive arms, not seeing how her presence made it all the worse for Minsc as he fought his own guilt.

Sarevok had only favored Greywulf with a nod, a familial, it almost seemed, nod of acknowledgement. A nod that might've, in a world apart from this, been a sign of approval. That even one so emotionally dead as he could see that they had needed this period of rest and healing. He had retreated to the old room where his first challenge had taken place in the Realm of Bhaal. Four doors were still hazed and covered with magic barring his entry. He forced any thoughts and second-guesses about their purpose from his mind, choosing instead to kneel beside Jaheira, tucking his long robe beneath him to give his knees some kind of protection from the rocky stone ground beneath, still digging into his knees uncomfortably-

Without warning, the rocky platform smoothed, bringing equal parts relief and annoyance. His mastery of this place was... discomforting. At least Cespenar had been wise enough to leave them well enough alone. Or had he subconsciously kept the imp away by his taint? The thoughts were enough to make his head spin, and so he pushed it away, choosing instead to wrap both arms around Jaheira from behind, wondering if she would recoil, slip back into her old, self-reliant persona that would spurn any sort of aid, refusing to admit weakness. To his slight surprise and relief, he felt only her lithe fingertips intertwine with his and he allowed himself the slightest feeling of ease. There... much better. Dealing with other people's problems was so much easier. They made so much more sense to him. He could see clearly, could see just what to do and how to go about it.

"It wasn't real. You know that." he murmured quietly, choosing words carefully. He had only caught one glimpse of her eyes upon their arrival, but there was no mistaking the raw anger that was there. He stiffened despite himself; he had known her long enough to realize that Jaheira's grief, while only displayed on the rarest of occasions, could so very quickly turn into a fury that few would dare confront. His status as her... lover, he supposed would be the appropriate term for now... might shield him more than others in trying to comfort her.

"I *know* it was a lie." she replied, her tone rough as gravel. She broke from his embrace to face him directly, the two on their knees as their gazes met. "I know who Gorion was! Who Khalid was!! I know they would not have been so callous, so... so... how dare he!! How dare that spectre defile their memories with such..."

He let his hands drift to her shoulders, trying to garner her attention, trying to direct her fury, to keep it from tearing her apart like an internal storm- something he'd seen too much when dealing with her betrayal by Dermin and his faction of the Harpers. "I know what you've- we both- have suffered. And I know what this did to you, inside-"

"Do you?" Jaheira's emerald eyes flashed as she continued. "You were so calm in the accusations of that... that thing! And the moment it targeted me, I felt my resolve falter- and it galls me to know that I doubted Khalid for even a moment! I have grieved in prayer and action for all that have fallen around me. I have fought to avenge each and every soul that has been taken in the fight for balance, and I will not be accused of dishonoring their memory, of benefiting from the death of friends!"

"Jaheira." Greywulf let the fury, the anger, flow past him and he stared deep into her eyes, finding the vulnerability that was truly there. "Nobody's accusing you of anything. Nobody. You have nothing to be ashamed of, do you understand? If I was any stronger than you back there, it was only because I've had more practice. People have been throwing Gorion's death, his expectations for me in my face since the day he died. I know what it's like to be hit a little too close to home."

"But you were never accused of benefiting from his death!" Jaheira defended, shaking her head wildly as the braids of her auburn hair whipped back and forth. "You were never told that you had wanted- had wanted- I..."

She stopped abruptly, and it was as if she had woken from a sleep, or that blinders had just been removed from her eyes. She blinked once, and for one of the few times he could remember, a look of shame crossed her half-elven features. "I... I am sorry, Greywulf. I should stop; I will not poison your view of me by having you assume my regrets. That is not fair to you. I apologize..."

"No need." he said, trying to fight the tightness in his throat as he swallowed. Her words betrayed the worries he had felt, rather, what he had feared she was feeling. Perhaps a reason why she had put their engagement on such an abrupt hold. Not that he minded waiting- it had been a spur of the moment thing, after all- but if this was the reason behind it, then he had cause to wonder whether there might be deeper troubles in their relationship than he knew. "Get some rest, all right? We've still got a war to stop, right?"

She eyed him for a moment, then allowed a quiet sigh of amusement, leaning over and kissing him gently on the cheek before slowly, unevenly stalking back to her bedroll- he considered willing a bed into creation where she was at, but thought better of it. Best to leave her alone for now- she was barely taking time to strip her plate armor off before collapsing, emotionally exhausted. He could sympathize- he lingered there, alone for a moment longer, only to hear familiar wing beats approach, and the concerned face of Cespenar beside him, glinting black eyes fixing with his. "Master? You okays? Can Cespenar help?"

He sighed, then took a moment to regard the strangely eager imp, wondering briefly how it had all come to this. A plane where his every whim could become a reality, assuming he was willing to tap into the nature inside him that he tried so desperately to ignore. An imp butler. His murderous brother fighting alongside him. He snorted, then shook his head and gestured back toward the pile of his belongings he had left nearby Jaheira's bedroll. "If you like, you can go through my belongings and... do whatever it is you do. Just try to keep from waking Jaheira. For your safety, you understand."

Cespenar gulped but then nodded eagerly, flapping quietly over to the rucksack and digging into it, humming ever-so-quietly to himself. Without a distraction, Greywulf could feel his own mind aching from the strain of the past few days- and his work was not yet finished. Was it ever, really?

He considered it a bit longer as he squared his shoulders and bee-lined, if in a decidedly slow fashion, toward the forms of the ranger and the elf, Aerie asleep in Minsc's arms, though tear tracks could still be seen on her pale cheeks. The sight would have been enough to break his heart if he weren't already so emotionally drained. Minsc's head tilted ever so slightly without the rest of his body moving, keeping Aerie in the delicately crafted respite she had found from the torment of the past few hours. He regarded her with care for a moment longer before returning his gaze to Greywulf expectantly.

"Holding up all right?" the words were quiet and might have seemed callous to some, but they had been friends and companions for long enough that no other expansion was necessary. Minsc nodded quietly, speaking in hushed tones that were far too restrained for one of his size and usual temperament. "She will be fine... Minsc told her that her mother would not say such things. And... and even if it were true, she has a new family with Minsc and you and the rest."

Greywulf could not help but smile at that last statement- it was the truth. How many times had he considered these men and women that accompanied him to be nothing less than family? Certainly, they were more of a family than he could ever expect from those whose blood matched with his own. Present company excluded, of course- mostly. He nodded in understanding, then knelt beside Aerie and Minsc, running a hand across Aerie's brow, the girl looking so small and fragile despite the great power lurking within her. It would be a mistake to underestimate the strength within that elven woman.

It would also, Greywulf noted, be a mistake to regard Minsc's physical prowess and strength to be indicative of an iron spirit, one invulnerable to the same pain they had all suffered so recently. He smiled lightly at the ranger, cocking his head to one side. "I wasn't just asking about her, you know."

"Minsc knows." he replied solemnly. "Boo has told Minsc that the wraiths lied. Boo knows that Dynaheir would not have felt that way about us."

The distinction between 'Boo' and Minsc was not lost on the sympathetic sorcerer standing over the reclining ranger, his back to a rock wall as his sad blue eyes drifted everywhere but Greywulf's. The half-elf swallowed, then pressed just a bit further. "And do you believe that?"

He did not answer right away, and for one as direct as the Rashemani ranger, it was enough to say it all. Greywulf leaned in and rested his hand on Minsc's shoulder for a moment, then nodded to him. No words were necessary. He walked away, leaving the elf and the ranger to their own comfort, seeking out the last of those whom he felt responsible for checking with.

She was, unsurprisingly, off in her own corner of the Pocket Plane- he found her seated on a small wooden chair- a remnant of the furnishings he'd conjured during their last visit. With only a few small exceptions, the chair seemingly one of them, they disappeared without his will and presence to sustain them. Hollow. Just like those wraiths.

Her hair was hanging loose around her features, obscuring her face as he approached from the side, her arms folded across the backing and her chin resting atop. It was an impishly impatient, or perhaps sullen posture, but her eyes- if the eyes were the window to the soul, then Imoen's soul was a bright land of mischief and wonder when she was... normal, so to speak. When certain moods overtook her, when thoughts and memories of Irenicus drew too near, or when the taint began rising with her too forcefully- her eyes were a window to something dark, something that he both recognized and shied away from... because he recognized it in himself.

"Hey."

"Hey..."

Her simple reply, quiet and unenthused made him slightly less anxious, though that would have seemed callous to another. Imoen was... hesitant, to share her own problems with the others, especially him. That she wasn't trying to hide her discomfort, her distress made it clear just how shaken she was... but made it that much easier for him to help her. Or so he believed.

"You want to talk about it?" he sat down cross-legged, looking up at her from the rocky ground. With another thought, this section of the Plane smoothed out. She noted the change with a snort, then shook her head mildly.

"No. Not really. Jus- jus' thinking about what happened. How stupid that ghost musta' been ta think we'd believe it, right? I mean, there's no way we'd buy that thing's vision of Gorion. No way."

The bitter tone to her normally melodic voice was far too easy to hear, and he grimaced at the self-loathing she was unable to hide. He opened his mouth to speak, but she erupted faster than he could, glaring harshly with a raised, pointed finger, daring him to speak. "No. No! You don't get to tell me that it was all fake an' that I'm beating myself up for nothing! I know that, ok? I know that thing was lying, and damn it all, I still believed it for a second! How pathetic is that, huh? And don't you dare to try and come cheer up 'poor ol' Imoen' cuz you think I can't handle it! I can!! I know what I am! I'm not turning into her, I'm not!"

Her sudden outburst took him by surprise, though he should have seen it coming, really. It was just that it happened so rarely: Imoen, dropping her legendary mask of sugar and sweetness and letting her true, raw emotions out in a time like this. He tried to speak up, to calm her for the sake of those sleeping around them if nothing else- "You're not going to become that *thing* from the other world. You're not the Laughing Death, all right?"

She eyed him for a moment, anger still in her young, beautiful eyes- he cracked the slightest of smiles and quipped, "Besides, I'm here this time, remember?"

The wrong time to joke; he saw it right away. She snorted, turning away and tossed behind her, "Yeah. I'm not turning into her. I'm turning into *you*."

Immediately, as soon as the words left her mouth, there was nothing but silence between them, a chill passing over brother and sister as Imoen slowly turned, pain in her eyes as she shook her head slowly. "I... Greywulf, I'm sorry- I didn't mean it..."

His gaze fell and he only nodded numbly, his words meaningless and unfelt. "Yeah... I know. Don't- don't worry about it."

Imoen's dropped her head into one hand with an air of remorse, whispering in regret, "It's just that you… you used to dream a lot. Right after Gorion died. And after what that thing said as Gorion- lately I've been having dreams. Nightmares, really."

"I thought your nightmares stopped after you got your soul back from Bodhi." Greywulf responded quietly, slowly regaining focus. There... a problem to solve. Something to focus his relentless will on- relentless against everything but his own problems. "I know there were a few, but you said it was over, mostly."

"They've started again. But they're not about Irenicus… really strange nightmares, like sailing on rivers of blood." she shivered as she spoke, an openly frightened look on her face. "So *real*. Those dreams you had... were they like that?"

"Yes… they were. Worse, sometimes." Greywulf said slowly, trying to keep himself from showing panic. Imoen was fearful enough without him losing his cool.

"Worse?" Imoen shuddered. "Then I… I dunno how much longer I can go on like this. The images- they keep coming to my mind when I sleep no matter how hard I try to block them out."

She paused a moment, then swallowed and took hold of Greywulf's arm, seeking something, anything as she continued. "An' I've started to... develop powers. Powers that reach down into the taint within me, and have nothing to do with my magic."

"What sort of powers?" Greywulf asked cautiously, the situation disturbingly familiar.

"Minor spells… like what you developed after you left Candlekeep. Healing. Curing poison, things like that." Imoen smiled weakly, trying not to cry. "Now ya know why I said I'm turning into you. This... this is the same path you took. That means that… that things could get worse. It means that I could become the Slayer…"

He came to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, closing his eyes as she snaked her arms around his body and held on tight. They collapsed against a wall, her body quivering every few moments, the pair of them a twisted, tainted version of Aerie and Minsc. While the ranger and elf were innocent in their own ways, pure in their own ways... they were the spawn of Murder. Children of a deity that brought bloodshed and fear wherever it walked. He could feel her fears slowly giving way to exhaustion as she slipped into a respite from the worries, the troubles of the day- and perhaps into more nightmares, more reminders of what she might become. Nothing was simple anymore; it hadn't been since their group had lost Dynaheir and Khalid.

Everything, despite all the good they had done, was always on the verge of falling apart… he didn't know how this group had survived together this long. At least when they had been fighting Sarevok the first time things had been easy- it was a simple fight to survive. Now there was so much more, so many complications that tore him in a million directions. Aerie and Minsc were, oddly enough, the most stable of the group, despite her insecurity and his madness. Imoen was fighting a battle within herself that even he had not won yet, and it appeared the taint within was gaining ground. Jaheira… he had thought that her doubts and any guilt she had about their relationship had been resolved… but the reemergence of the specters of Gorion and Khalid had changed all that.

The wild card, Sarevok, still an enigma to them all, not trusted by any, save perhaps Greywulf, who had the least reason to do so. And himself caught within the center of this maelstrom, trying to keep the group bound together, trying to keep them whole, even as he dealt with his own struggles inside. And yet... they gave him focus in more ways than one. There to keep him strong, there to keep him focused. If not for them, he might very well be... hollow. Kind of ironic, really.

X X X X X X

The world was a blur- awash in red and orange hues, all mingling together with the dingy brown of the wood planks that were crumbling before him and the gray ash that floated heavily through the air, choking him even as he sat, alone. The bar of the Tankard Tree- or rather, what was still standing of it, was home to a single occupant, seated at one of the bar stools, drinking out of a nearly empty bottle of rum, seemingly oblivious to all the death and madness erupting around him. The screams of the dying pierced the air and gave him pause every now and again, but still he would undoubtedly return to his drink, unfazed.

The sound of swords colliding was much rarer now- most of Saradush's militia and defenders were dead, and Yaga-Shura's army had all but overrun the city. The only reason he was still alive was that half of the building had collapsed and was covering the standing half, meaning that while he could escape from the admittedly unstable structure via small gaps in the rubble, he was unseen by any on the outside. Which put him in the safest place possible, as odd as it seemed. Not that he cared much. Nothing really fazed him these days. Not since meeting Mellissan. Not since losing his 'curse'... only to discover just how much he truly was cursed, now.

Viekang blinked in the darkness, glimmers of fire-driven light peeking in from every crack in the rubble that surrounded him in a tent of destruction. How long had it been? Three months, maybe? Three months since he had been found by Mellissan, after almost a year of running. His taint-fueled power had manifested itself quite differently than most- whenever he became frightened, whenever terror struck him, he teleported somewhere... anywhere else. He had no control over the location, nor a choice in the matter. More often than not he would find himself in the ocean for a split second or falling through the air before his terror would drag him elsewhere, only ceasing when he calmed enough to remain in whatever new situation he had found himself in. Impossible to create any kind of life like that- if he allowed himself to lose control, to let anxiety overtake him, even over the smallest, most inconsequential things, he would be gone in the blink of an eye.

And so, Viekang thought wryly as he swallowed another mouthful, feeling the alcohol burn all the way down, he had turned to Mellissan. Mellissan the savior, Mellissan the protector of god-children... Mellissan the betrayer. She had betrayed him, that he now saw. She knew how the god-children were being hunted. She knew how close they were to extinction at the hands of their own kin. And still she had done as Viekang asked. It was partially on him as well, of that there was no doubt, but still... she must've known. She had to have known this would happen.

The sound of shifting wood echoed all around, and any sane person would have jerked back and forth, looking for signs that the building was about to complete its collapse, and that his brief respite was at an end. Viekang merely glanced at the cracked foundations; no fear spurred him to run, and so he simply reached past the lifeless, crushed body of the barkeep and took another bottle from the slanted, half collapsed shelf behind him. This one was just about empty as well- whatever. It would be enough.

When he had heard of Mellissan and her efforts to help the Bhaalspawn, he had pleaded, begged her to find a cure for his curse. To find some way of letting him live a normal life. And after almost a month of study and spells, she had done the impossible. Rather than trying to remove the taint, she had simply removed the catalyst. He no longer felt fear. Ever. And for a time, it was good. He lived life to the fullest, never letting any misconceived ideas of how things might go wrong or how the world might turn against him govern his actions. He lived exactly how he chose until Yaga-Shura. Until he found himself just like a hundred others, a Bhaalspawn between an invulnerable fire giant and a mad general. But now the city was breached...

He laughed humorlessly, taking a swig. Maybe one more swallows' worth. He'd checked most of the rest of the bottles. This might be the last of it. Viekang rubbed his sharp, hooked nose, then brushed stringy brown hair from his vision. He tried again, squeezing his eyes shut... but nothing. Not the slightest ounce of fear chilled his bones. The knowledge that he was going to die the moment the building collapsed or when Yaga-Shura, infamous for tracking down the tainted children, found him did absolutely nothing. His pulse was steady and unchanging. He shook his head, and wondered how it had come to this? If his power had remained with him, there was almost no way he could ever have been caught. But Mellissan changed all that. It was her fault he would die, and how he hated her and himself for that fact.

Viekang swore and raised the bottle again, only this time the bottle vibrated in his hands, only for a moment. He paused, then felt it a second time. Footsteps. Large ones. A fire giant was approaching- with the sound of tearing metal and cracking wood, the small refuge Viekang had taken for his own was exposed to the fires of the sun and the burning rubble of Saradush. Towering over him stood a powerfully built giant, his orange beard glowing like the embers themselves. His eyes blazed with fury and power and the war hammer he held in both hands was easily Viekang's size. "Hahahaha! Did you think you could hide from Yaga-Shura forever?!!"

Viekang met Yaga-Shura's eyes, then shook his head with acceptance, finally downing the last of the liquor. He stood up from the bar stool, dropping the bottle with the crash of broken glass on the rocks below his feet. He squinted, trying to look up at the man towering over him, and said calmly, "No. No, I didn't. But I am not afraid of you, Yaga-Shura. Or death. Or anything, for that matter. If you wish to kill me, I ask that you do it now and without delay. Anything else would be but a waste of our time."

The giant paused, and Viekang wondered when the last time was that anyone had spoken to the Bhaalspawn without fear in their eyes, or voice. It wasn't that he wanted to die- he didn't, obviously. But without fear to motivate resistance... without fear to summon defiance... without fear to send him running- there was nothing. Viekang could muster nothing more than complacence, and he hated Mellissan for that. He hated himself for that.

Yaga-Shura's voice cut into his inner thoughts. "As you wish."

The next sensation he felt was excruciating pain as the war hammer Yaga-Shura held slammed into his body from the side and sent him hurtling through the air like a rag doll before finally slamming head first into a half-standing brick wall. It didn't take a physician to realize that he would die from the contusions and broken bones of the first hit, but when he heard a sickening snap upon impact of the wall, Viekang felt a sense of peace as he flopped to the ground. He could feel nothing below his neck, and blood began to trickle from his nose and mouth. The sound of Yaga-Shura coming closer- still, no fear. As his doom drew near, step by step, Viekang slowly began to smile. Hmm. Facing death without blinking. Few men could say they had done that. Even fewer in the face of a death such as this.

Yaga-Shura appeared in his rapidly dimming vision, raising one mammoth, sandaled foot over his face. Viekang said nothing, only remained staring forward, without fear. He could, after all, do no other.

X X X X X X

A stiff wind forced Solaufein to tug the hood of his cloak down further toward his face, trying to keep it from blowing off as the three men trudged ever further across the countryside south of Athkatla. The fortress of Watcher's Keep was another few days away, but only so long as they maintained their coastline direction, which meant enduring the constant buffeting of winds and the increased bandit activity. So far they'd only dealt with the first annoyance. The second, however, was still constantly on their minds.

They were almost to the top of a particular rising hill, where a patch of oak trees would provide some comfort from the elements, and with any luck, help cut the chill of the wind that plagued them. Or at least provide some wood for a fire. They had been traveling non-stop for nearly a day now; Anomen might have learned a thing or two in his time with the Bhaalspawn, but he still had some work to finish when it came to leading men. It had yet to reach him that not everybody had the same stamina and will as he-

Solaufein stopped in his tracks, his dark features knitting as he turned his head from one side to the other, scanning the area. Something... something wasn't right. His sudden halt had caught the attention of Reynald, at least. Anomen was still trudging forward at lead, scarce looking back to see if the others were there. Reynald took a step back, aligning himself further with the wary drow, asking quietly, "Is something troubling you, friend? You look... worried."

"I sense something." Solaufein whispered, his red eyes shifting, even as he turned in place, watching, looking for anything out of place, anything that might be the source of the disquieting feeling they were being-

Watched! Anomen cried out as a shimmering figure cut across his path like lightning, followed by a quick strike that sent him tumbling down the hill, rolling past the positions of Solaufein and Reynald. A chittering sound echoed all around them, and Solaufein's heart sank as he glanced at the small puncture mark in Anomen's breastplate, blood trickling from it. The cleric was trying to get to his feet, shaky but still alive. The attack had not been deep enough to kill- lucky. Solaufein growled as he whipped the two-handed blade from its sheath and planted his feet, his back to Reynald's as they moved to cover Anomen while he recovered.

"What's happening!?" Reynald tossed behind him as Solaufein narrowed his eyes, listening for the sound of the attack that was sure to come- there. The drumbeat of pattering strikes across the ground- Solaufein stepped into the attack and slid just a touch to the right, and the sound of a spear like implement stabbing the space he had occupied a second ago caught his ear- he did not take the time to relax, instead he swung his blade upward, and it slowed only a moment as it cut through the appendage that had been meant to impale him. As the shrieks of his attacker echoed through the area, he spat back at Reynald, the former knight looking on in amazement. "On your guard! The servants of Lolth have found me!"

Around them, several creatures hazed into existence, the element of surprise long gone. One of the spider-like creatures was hobbling backward, the foremost of its eight, lance-like legs chopped off and bleeding darkened blood. They were humanoid from the waist up with a bloated spider's body below, numbering four strong. Accompanying them were two of the drow elves, wearing splint mail made specifically to resist the rotting that adamantine underwent when exposed to the sun. One of the drow was a warrior, piercings covering his face as he sneered and spat a drow curse, pointing at Solaufein. "You are a blight on the drow people! You have brought the judgment of Lolth upon you- you will burn for your crimes against the Spider Queen!"

He charged along with a drider, the monstrosity skittering ahead of the man, razor like legs reaching to shred him. Solaufein grimaced- Anomen was just now getting to his feet, directly behind him. It would be hard to dodge and not condemn Anomen to a rushing attack that might overwhelm that already weakened warrior-priest. He braced himself, wondering if he could cut the drider's legs out before the drow reached him, when Reynald rushed in from the side, his tower shield slamming into the side of the drider as he shoved it out the drow's path, clearing Solaufein's field of vision to encompass the charging drow, taken by surprise with Reynald's sudden intervention. The renegade drow turned his defensive posture to an attacking one, launching out with an overhead blow, parried which turned it into a side sweep meant to take out the man's left leg. That was repelled and Solaufein spun in place, moving his attention to a second drider, letting his blade deflect a strike that would have left a neat hole in his back.

Anomen finally brought his own mace to bear, only sparing a brief glance to the wound in his chest before driving forward behind his family shield, charging up beneath another drider, pushing it back onto its hind leg sets. It clawed and hissed, the clattering of its appendages against his shield eager to reach behind and dissect the man beneath, but as Anomen pushed harder, keeping the creature in place, he shouted a brief plea to Helm, ducking even further behind his shield. A pillar of flame erupted from the sky and fell upon them both, but its bulk along with his shield left him unharmed as the burning carcass slid from atop him.

Reynald was chasing the drider he had knocked aside, the creature skittering around him as he kept his long sword out at guard, parrying any jabs that his opponent made- a sound like the dark chants of a wicked monastery echoed all around him, and he knew that the second drow was a spellcaster. Dark bolts of energy crackled from the sky as an Unholy Smite engulfed them, and Reynald fought the urge to scream as one of them struck him cleanly through the midsection. His torso had lost all feeling, and it was an effort to stay on his feet- the drider he fought sensed his weakness and leapt forward, knocking him to the ground. His tower shield was the only thing between him and the eager drider's maw, the dark elf features doing nothing to hide the ravenous desire it felt to feast upon his flesh and blood. His sword arm was too well pinned to come around and strike the beast atop him- he winced as the drider's hands came down, slithering toward his neck. Not much time for the others to help-

Solaufein had felt the effects of the Unholy Blight, though it had struck Anomen and Reynald much harder than he. Perhaps that said something of him, but he did not dwell on it and instead focused his attention on reaching the drow cleric before she unleashed another spell upon them. He heard the clatter of metal and saw Reynald get pinned beneath a drider out of the corner of his eye as he tried to charge the dark priestess- damn. He aborted his charge, in the process throwing off the last drider that had been lunging for him, only to bring him back into the path of the drow swordsman. Solaufein grimaced as he dipped one hand into his pocket, clutching the stone inside- he vanished into a dimension door, the second half of the portal erupting right beside Reynald as he dove out, his sword swinging by and cutting neatly across the drider's neck. It remained motionless for a moment, before the head fell from the body, leaving Reynald to shove the lifeless corpse from atop him, scrambling to his feet to present something of a united front again.

Two of them against a hobbled drider and the two drow- Anomen was down, this time for the remainder of the fight, if not worse. The Unholy Smite had struck him horribly, and he would be of no use in the remainder of the fight- Solaufein gave Reynald a glance, first at the man's bloodied shield, then at the two impediments between them and the drow priestess. Already she was speaking her dark tongue once again- a red glow surrounded the two warriors they faced, and there was no time left for discussion. Reynald nodded, and charged ahead, Solaufein dropping in neatly behind him. The man's tower shield came first, slamming straight on into the drow soldier as he turned his shield sideways, blocking both the drider and the drow- Solaufein leapt from the ground, using Reynald as a stepping stone to vault over the top of the two that his companions was holding at bay, landing before the priestess with a snap swing across the midsection. She screamed, falling back with her hands trying desperately to keep her innards from falling out.

Reynald would have been pushed back easily by the combined forces of the opponents he faced, especially strengthened by the dead sorceress' spells, but the drider disengaged to face Solaufein once more- it staggered back and forth on its wounded legs, and then arced at him, spinning past to release a blast of webbing from its spinners. The sticky mess planted the drow to the spot- he grunted with rising panic, trying to swing his blade down to cut through the hindrance, but to no avail. It was far too thick and sticky to be cut so easily- he could do nothing but raise his weapon in defense as the drider circled him, looking for the best angle to strike from. It reached his backside, and Solaufein instantly knew he was done. There was no way he could defend with both feet planted to the ground like this. Unless Reynald could get past his own opponent quickly enough it was over for him...

White bolts of lightning gathered and struck all around them, impaling the drider as it sank to the ground, sliding to his feet, twitching with his mouth open in an endless scream. Reynald easily overpowered his suddenly weakened enemy and struck him down with one slice of his blade. Solaufein frowned in confusion, then spotted Anomen raised up on arm, lowering his hand from the Holy Smite he had brought down upon them. The exertion, however, was too much- he lost consciousness once more, dead to the world as Solaufein and Reynald finally untangled themselves and reached him, turning him over onto his back.

"By the gods, what were those things, man?" Reynald asked Solaufein, loathing in his eyes as he eyed the corpses littering the plains.

"They were driders... dark elves twisted even further by the magics of Lolth." Solaufein replied with hatred thick in his voice, still on alert even as he checked the cleric's pulse. "Anomen's life signs are faint- I shall tell you more of their twisted purposes once we have aided our companion. We will need a healer... or at the very least, a safe place for this man to rest."

"Athkatla will be another three days' journey, at least." Reynald shook his head. "We shall never make it back carrying him the whole way there, even more so should more of those demons come upon us."

"You are correct- and I would not dare suggest we have seen the last of Lolth's revenge attempts on my life." the drow grimaced, before a slight smile crept in at the edges of his mouth. "But I think I know where we might find refuge. An old bastion that will not have forgotten me, or indeed, any who fought with the Bhaalspawn to save it from a red dragon's malice. It will be a day's march to the De'Arnise Keep... I suggest we hurry if we are to make it before dark."


	18. Part 1: Trust in Change

The sight of the massive stone walls with brightly colored banners flapping lightly in the wind was a welcome one, even if it was still several hundred yards off. Surrounded by expansive plains dotted with rivers, farmland, and settlements, the once nearly desolate lands of De'Arnise were slowly flourishing, becoming more and more populous as the region blossomed under the leadership of one Lady Nalia De'Arnise. Nearly a year since the assault by the red dragon Firkraag had almost brought the Keep and the people within to ruin. Nearly a year since Nalia De'Arnise had truly, completely emerged from the long shadow that her father's well-loved reign had cast, growing into a leader that commanded respect from her people as well as her foes. Nearly a year since Solaufein had seen her last.

He doubted that his contribution to the salvation of not only her people but her life would be forgotten. Surely she would offer them refuge, if only long enough to get Anomen back on his feet. Still, she had to know about the driders- if they attacked and her men were taken by surprise because he had neglected to tell her what was chasing him, the blood would be on his head. He had enough guilt for a lifetime... no need to add more to it.

"Do you need aid? I can carry our companion for a time if your strength is fading." Reynald offered, glancing at the limp form of Anomen draped across Solaufein's arms as they traversed the last stretches of countryside on their way to the Keep. It had been nearly a full day's hike to reach the Keep, and sun would set within the hour. They had traded the duties of carrying Anomen for a time- he had only regained consciousness once or twice through the whole ordeal, and when he had done so, it was not long before the injuries inflicted by the Unholy Blight sent him spiraling back towards oblivion once more. As their only healer was, in fact, Anomen himself, and with no spellcaster among them to augment the cleric's abilities, they were labored down far more than they should have been otherwise.

Solaufein grunted, shaking his head as he finally bothered to answer the former knight's offer of help. "No. We are nearly there, and if we should by Lolth's assassins before we reach the walls, one of us should be in condition to strike back quickly."

Reynald nodded as though in agreement with the drow's words, but it was obvious to the warrior that he was still hesitant to leave him holding the admittedly heavy load, complete with pack, armor, and weapons to match. Still, he'd be damned if he showed a sign of weakness- especially with the threat of his old life looming overhead. He had beaten countless foes over the hundreds of years he'd lived- if he had to beat the entirety of his former life to finally find freedom, then he'd do that too. The sun slipped just beyond the top of the De'Arnise Castle, lending a lengthening shadow over the two companions as they drew ever closer to the closed bridge. Solaufein arched an eyebrow as they approached- the drawbridge was closed, true enough. Nalia had never kept the castle shut before, except when it had been under siege. Perhaps not the wisest or safest of choices, but there had always been a guard posted, and besides, she had insisted that it would reflect upon her desire to welcome any and all of the common folk she served to her door.

A watchman posted above the raised bridge spotted their approach, raising a cry that echoed down to them. "Oi! State your business with the court De'Arnise!"

"We have an injured man who needs aid- is that not cause enough to seek refuge? Lower your bridge and allow us passage!" Reynald called back, but even as he looked up at the guard, Solaufein's frown deepened. This was not the 'Court De'Arnise' he remembered from his former visits.

"The Lady of these lands does not simply allow every peasant and injured wayfarer passage into the royal grounds. Unless Lady De'Arnise has called upon your presence, I suggest you be on your way." the guard called down firmly, planting his spear next to him with a look that showed little if any compassion for the plight of these three nameless faces.

"Tell Lady Nalia that Solaufein of Ust Natha is here. She will know the name. I suggest you be on your way to inform her quickly, guard, before your callous temperament offends her Ladyship." the drow remarked loudly enough for the guard to hear, though his tone still managed to convey a sense of impatience and irritation that would quicken the step of any under his command.

Still, whether by distance between them, or perhaps a simple stubborn satisfaction that the guard above took in frustrating those below him and within his power, he called back, "How dare you speak to a member of the guard in so insolent a fashion! I shall not bother the Lady with your senseless prattle! Begone before I tell the guards among the towers to rain arrows upon your heads. The De'Arnise Keep is no haven for every wanderer and ne-re do well that passes by. Again I say, off with you!"

"As a member of the guard of Athkatla, I state my cause just and reasons valid for requiring entry." Reynald said, straightening his posture and attempting to look... well, guardly. Perhaps his tenure amongst the defenders of the City of Coin had come to a close recently, but... the cause was just enough, and it had only been a few days since, after all.

"Enough! Next you shall tell me that you are a paladin of the Radiant Heart, or perhaps a Cowled Wizard, come to our doorstep!" the guard laughed mockingly, before stamping his spear against the cold stone that composed the walls of the Keep. "I shall no longer tolerate your foolish ramblings. Shout as you will, but be forewarned, I will not be responsible for the fate you make for yourselves."

Solaufein glanced at the arrow towers, and what his keen elven eyesight picked up made his frown deepen. The archers manning the arrow towers were listening to something that the gate guard was saying... and began to pull arrows from their quivers, readying their bows for an attack. Something was wrong... this was not the same Keep. Perhaps Nalia was in danger? Only one way to find out... and to gain access, for that matter. Anomen would not survive a trip all the way back to Athkatla... they needed help, and they needed it now. He knelt to the ground, lowering Anomen's unconscious bulk to the soil as gently as he could muster, then stood, praying that his gamble might pay off for both Reynald and he, but for Anomen as well.

Reynald opened his mouth once more, ready to speak with all the righteous indignation that these uncaring responses truly deserved, but for the sake of their health- all of them- Solaufein shouted upwards once more, "I give you a final chance! Tell Nalia that Solaufein of Ust Natha has come- ah, I see no need. She has come to you, and you will find the way you have treated one of her allies gravely disturbing."

The guard above hesitated for a moment, finally glancing over his shoulder as though the Lady Nalia was there, ready to discipline him for his missteps- and it was all the time the drow warrior needed. The hand he had held clutched in his pocket gripped the magical stone and erupted with magic, a dimension door blazing into existence all around him as he slipped through time and space- reappearing beside the stubborn guard. The look of shock and terror on his face as Solaufein materialized beside him was almost worth the effort alone, but the drow only gave himself a brief moment to enjoy it before swinging his fist in an uppercut as hard as he could manage. The blow rocked the guard back onto his heels and flat to his back, completely taken by surprise.

Shouts of alarm echoed from the arrow towers and Solaufein hunkered down to avoid the arrows that would almost certainly be heading his way in moments- one such missile struck the stone banister beside him and shattered with the impact. He grimaced, shuffling to the bridge winch as fast as he dared, taking small comfort in the knowledge that while the archers were aiming at him, they were not striking out at Reynald and Anomen. Another arrow struck within inches of his back- while he was impressed at the accuracy of Nalia's new guardsmen, he rather wished they were focusing their attentions on something worth shooting at rather than... well, him.

He leaned upwards, taking hold of the wooden wheel that allowed access to the drawbridge, and began shifting his weight, trying his best to maneuver the heavy turntable while lying down- a surprisingly difficult task, as he was able to get little momentum into the effort. More shouts of alarm- he chuckled, knowing the next response. Failing to stop him with their arrows, they would be moving up with their blades instead. He considered staying down in case some of them had remained behind with their bows- no time for that. Reynald would have to follow his lead, and leaving him out in the cold would probably get him shot up once he was taken by the guard. Which he was, most assuredly going to be taken. He threw himself to his feet, then proceeded to throw his full weight into turning the winch, grunting with the exertion of moving several hundred pounds of wood and iron into position.

The guards were too close, within moments they'd strike him if he had not signaled surrender of a sort. He made one last effort, hurling his body forward to push the drawbridge down fully, praying to Lady Silverhair that Reynald had enough sense to take Anomen and him across for this short moment of respite. He managed to pick himself up before the other guards finally came within arms' reach, their swords drawn and at guard. "Surrender or face death, invader!"

"As I told this fool previously," the drow remarked, frowning as the man at his feet began to regain consciousness from the commotion, "I am no invader. Your Lady knows me well, and would have invited me in personally had you but told her my name. If anyone is to blame for this mess, it is the worthless human before us."

As the guard rose to his knees, Solaufein had to resist the urge to kick him back down again. No, that would not endear him any further to the guardsmen. Then again, Solaufein decided as he raised his hands and followed in captivity back down to the main courtyard of the Keep, he doubted that Nalia would allow him to befall any serious hurt. Or rather, the Nalia he had known would not have. Whatever was going on here now might speak differently to that assumption.

X X X X X X

Sarevok crushed the skull of the undead creature lying before him, the last of the foes they had faced upon returning to the Forest of Mir. Although still shaken by the encounter with the Master Wraiths, their resolve had been strengthened once more, and everyone had been well prepared to fight if necessary once Greywulf had brought them back. Granted, it took everyone a bit longer than they had thought, having to repack their bags after Cespenar had gotten into everyone's belongings, scattering them through the Pocket Plane. Still, after several threats from Sarevok and Imoen both if he did not pick it all up, the impish butler had recovered everything and restored it, along with a few magical augmentations, according to his 'recipes.' Imoen's splint mail was a bit more protective, and so was the cloak Minsc wore, though nothing overly visible or magnificent.

Still, the new protections had proved useful when they came back, immediately finding a number of skeleton warriors and undead guarding the inner courtyard of the temple. They were not overly numerous, but their undead spirits seemed powered by the lingering taint of Bhaal, and thus they were a far greater challenge than similar creatures. Aerie had taken a nasty hit across the thigh, though it was healing quite well after the magics of Jaheira had been put to use; the only tell-tale sign that anything had happened was a slight limp that the girl walked with, one that would be gone with another day's rest.

At the other end of the courtyard was a wall about twenty feet high, only passable by a set of staircases on both far ends of the construction. The right side stairs had been collapsed long ago by rubble that had most likely fallen from the long since destroyed ceiling, and so they moved quickly to ascend the stairs on the left, Minsc at the rear position, watching for any more creatures coming with malicious intent. The path was quickly covered, and at the top of the platform above stood a small gazebo type structure, circular steps leading to a small covered dome, held up by stone pillars.

Cracks ran across this altar of darkness, suggesting a possible collapse at any time, but it did not seem to bother the figure hunched over nearby cloaked in brown, dirty patchwork robes. A small green fire burned in the very center underneath the dome, apparently doing a little more than simply warming the figure nearby. The group approached cautiously, awaiting some ravenous looking hag, a crone covered in wrinkled flesh and age spots with dirty fingernails and a cackle to match her persona.

When the woman turned, standing up straight with dark ebony hair spilling from her robes and a smooth, beautiful face underneath, there was a pause of awkward questioning from the group between one another- the woman folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow upward, lips pursed in expectant distaste. "So... you have finally arrived. I had foreseen that you would do so."

Imoen squinted in the green-tinted light, as though expecting the woman's beauty to dissolve in moments and reveal a monster beneath. "That so, huh? Care to tell us how?"

"Mmm." the woman smirked, raising a slender hand as she examined the back of her long, black nails. She considered the party of six, then turned her face back to the flames and put her hands out, the sleeves of her robes pulled back so that the flames did not set them alight. "They call me the Witch of the Glade, the outsiders do. I know a great many things of you and your kind, Bhaalspawn. Are you so surprised, that I know of who you are, the three of you? Or perhaps I should say two... for all of your bluster and size, you, warrior, have only the slightest hint of the taint left within you. I begin to wonder if that armor and blade is not compensating for your lack of... power."

It was a lesson Greywulf took note of rather quickly, as he had done in the past when dealing with his murderous half-brother- one of his extremely few weak spots? His ego. And even though the taunt may have been juvenile and rather beneath anyone there, it was enough to draw the rage of the Deathbringer. "I am Sarevok, woman. Do not think that you can simply spout whatever insults you please without repercussion. I have killed men for saying less to me."

"As much as I'd like to let the two of you continue your little verbal spat, we're not here for that." Greywulf raised two hands, giving Sarevok a hint of a longer stare, gesturing for him to back off. If he decided to slice her open, they'd be decidedly out of clues as to the home of Yaga-Shura's mountain palace. "I am Greywulf... and since you know much more than you let on, I see no point in hiding it. I am a Bhaalspawn, as are my kin here beside me."

"Mmm... manners, even. It has been some time since I have conversed with another. I am pleased to see you are more than your brother- more than a mindless brute demanding power like so many of the vermin that make their way here, to my glade. As for me- you may call me Nyalee. It has been a very long time since another has called me by name. I would be pleased to hear it spoken on the tongues of men once again."

"You may present a veneer of civility, but what kind of person makes their living out in the ruins of a place of evil such as this?" Jaheira questioned, gesturing toward the stone statues and Bhaal-imagery that lay desecrated amidst the temple rubble. "I find it hard to believe that you choose this ruin simply for the solitude it affords you."

Nyalee laughed, a high-pitched chuckle that did not inspire thoughts of mirth- or sanity, for that matter. Still, it ended as quickly as it had come, and the only sign she had even exhibited that unrestrained display of maddened humor was the tight upward pull to her lips, baring perfect, white teeth. Unlikely even in the cities. "You do not trust me. And what have I done to warrant such suspicion? Your association with the others... the rest of your kinsmen... it has left you bitter and cold inside. Not so cold as my boy Yaga-Shura... no, none are as cold as he."

The import of what she had just said caused them to pause a moment, before the ranger among them broke the silence. "Minsc does not understand." he frowned. "You… are the mother? Boo does not see how this works, if you know what he means."

"And what is it you find so hard to believe? That I could have given birth to one so powerful, so strange as he? Surely you know I am a witch of no small power." Nyalee growled, almost snarling at Minsc as she spun, her robes whirling around her, threadbare and ragged at the edges. "Perhaps I was his mother indeed. Perhaps he came from my loins when Lord Bhaal lay with me, once, long ago. Or perhaps I simply found him and raised him as my own. Does it matter to you, mortals? No. All you seek... all any Bhaalspawn seeks, is the blood. The murder, the death. You seek to kill Yaga-Shura, and you wish my help."

Aerie drew away from the witch as she spoke, swallowing gently, before mustering her courage and stepping up to speak in a tone that belied the fear obviously running through her veins. "I am with Jaheira in this matter. I do not trust this woman, Greywulf. I can sense the evil within this place... within her-"

Nyalee hissed and lurched towards Aerie, the younger elf recoiling in shock as a blast of dark magic waved between them, Aerie hurtling to the ground. Minsc's eyes went wide as he saw his witch thrown aside, and his sword was halfway from its scabbard before Aerie shook her head, one hand to her head as the other helped push her back to her feet. "No! She didn't do it... I saw inside her mind for a moment. It was... nothing but power. Raw, dark energy. I have never felt anything like it..."

"That is because I am like nothing you have ever seen, of that you can be sure." Nyalee spoke with disdain, turning her back on the group as she returned to her magical flame, warming her hands. She glanced behind her at the party of six, still wary about coming any closer to this mysterious woman. "Come closer, if you wish my aid. It is you who have intruded on my sanctity. The least you might do is accommodate an old woman's needs... and I find a chill in my bones comes far too easily in these dark nights."

"An old woman, are you?" Greywulf questioned, though all six slowly filed closer, encircling the flame so that they all stood with her in sight. No sense in taking unnecessary risks- every one of them had a weapon or spell ready within moments. "You would shame me were I to consider myself old and look as you do."

"Perhaps you think me so vain as to conceal my true face with magics... and for what purpose would that serve? So that I could look ravishing, seductive those unfortunate enough to venture into my lair? I should simply kill them and be done with it, should the opportunity arise. A lesson many learned the hard way." Nyalee smirked, glancing up at the broken arches that would have formed a gazebo where they stood, long ago. Upon the remnants of the arches were several mounted skulls- all of them human. "No, my youth stems from another source... the same source that gives Yaga-Shura his vaunted immortality... a trick that I taught him long ago, and one which he has used to great... effect. Traitorous son of mine..."

"And just what kind of trick are you talkin' about? Imoen asked, trying not to seem interested, though in reality, her attention was firmly in hand. Some kind of magic that was powerful enough to not only provide invulnerability, but eternal youth? How could a mage like her resist?

Nyalee glanced at her, then smiled gently, a strange expression on her normally frosty features. "Come child, take my hand. You shall see-"

Greywulf's eyes widened and he was about to use his quarterstaff to intervene before Imoen extended her hand and clasped Nyalee's. The staff rested upon the top of their connected limbs, before Nyalee looked back at him with disgust. "Still so filled with mistrust, are you? Bah! Rot under the footprint of my boy, for all I care! You, girl... how soft your skin is. You are quite the powerful child, that much I can sense."

"Umm... thanks?" Imoen said with a forced smile, trying not to grimace. "You might want to warm yourself a bit more though- s'like you've got ice in your veins or something."

"Indeed?" Nyalee asked, not a care in her voice. "Perhaps the fire is not so warm as I had hoped. No fire warms my heart any longer-" She thrust Imoen's hand inside her robes, directly over heart. Imoen tried to recoil but Nyalee's grip turned to iron as she glared at Imoen with blackness in her eyes. "Tell me child... what do you feel?"

Imoen's features fell in shock and disbelief as she slowly understood. "There's no heartbeat- nothing at all, is there..."

Nyalee released Imoen as the girl hurriedly stumbled away, the rest moving to form a more cohesive group, ready to defend themselves if needed from whatever this... thing was that stood before them. "Just what are you, woman?" Sarevok growled, the Blade of Chaos firmly in his hands and pointed at her face.

"What am I?" Nyalee closed her robes tightly, as though that could fill the void that no doubt existed where her heart had once sat, beating in her breast. "I have been many things. A Priestess of Bhaal? A Sorceress cast out and hunted by the Knights of the South? A Mother betrayed by her son who seeks revenge? Perhaps all of these, and perhaps none. I am Nyalee, Witch of the Glade, and that is enough for you. I will help you kill Yaga-Shura. Do you wish my aid or not, for now is the time to decide."

The six shared a glance- what trust could be spared for the woman and whatever 'aid' she offered was scant indeed, but it was one of their only opportunities, and denying a potential ally in a fight against one touted to be invulnerability personified would be foolish. Slowly, Greywulf lowered his staff and nodded, his brown hair gently brushing the front of his forehead. "Speak, and we will listen."

"Then take note, for I am about to tell you of rituals the likes of which have not been seen or performed on this earth in ages. Rituals I dared to learn and study... rituals I passed on to my son, preparing him for his rebirth as the new Lord of Murder." Nyalee spoke darkly, her upper lip curling in disgust when she spoke of the fire giant. "To cast aside one's mortal shell and embrace immortality requires a great sacrifice- one must remove the source of life so that it may be suspended, kept apart from the body while yet providing the spark of creation within us all. Such rituals are ancient and complex- to perform one is to take on the role of a god for the briefest of moments. Ao has struck down many who attempted to do so for their hubris."

"And I see that you survived the retribution of the gods." Jaheira folded her arms, her spear crossing behind her legs as she held the shaft lightly between three fingers and her thumb. "Why he chose to spare one such as you I shall never know."

Nyalee glared for a moment, then flicked a long nailed finger at the group and a Silence Spell ignited amidst them, closing the vocal passages of every single one of them. She turned away as though nothing had happened, continuing her story. "I taught the boy how to fight, how to survive... I trained him to become the greatest warrior, the greatest spawn that would walk the Realms! Trained him to become the Lord of Murder... but even I knew that all my training would mean nothing if he were to fall under the blade of another spawn. A fate no god-child is immune to. Every Bhaalspawn is attracted to the rest of his kin, to slay, to hunt, to murder. I would protect my boy... and so I performed the ritual upon him, removing his heart from his chest, still beating and embalmed in magics older than Faerun itself."

She turned back to them, and for the first time, a hint of sadness, of regret appeared on her face. "And for all my help, what did he do? He betrayed me... his mother, his own beloved keeper... while I slumbered, he used my own craft to remove my heart. Mine!" She turned to the flames and pointed within, and if one squinted hard enough, looked deeply enough- there, in the midst of the fire was a heart, beating slowly, rhythmically. She sighed, snapping her fingers, releasing their voices as she peered down at her heart once again, as though oblivious to everything around her. "He took my lessons and perverted them- the flame that protects my heart keeps it awash in magic and extends my life. Yet the magics are incomplete- I must constantly maintain this flame or it will go out and I shall die."

"Why don't you just put your heart back in?" Aerie asked slowly, wary of incurring another surge of petulant wrath from the witch. "You taught him the rituals, surely you can restore yourself?"

"Foolish girl!" Nyalee screamed, and for a moment the party feared they would have to strike her down if she lashed out, but the fury dimmed quickly, the only sign that it had been there at all being a smoldering rage in her eyes. "It took me a *lifetime* to prepare for the ritual that I put my son through. I spent years tracking down the powders, the runes necessary to perform the rituals once. He took all the remains that I possessed when he took my heart. Who will find the ingredients I need to restore myself? Surely you are not so filled with foresight that you brought the blood of a god here with you?"

"The blood of a god?" Greywulf recoiled, the very words filling him with sudden fear and respect for the power this woman commanded. "Where did you-"

"Did I not tell you that the ingredients were... difficult, to acquire?" Nyalee smirked. "No... Yaga-Shura knew that I would never leave this place again. All I can do is wait, endure through the ages and seek revenge upon the one who sentenced me to this eternity of torment."

"Then tell us how to kill the giant, and we shall deliver the vengeance that he deserves! So swears Minsc." the ranger thumped his chest with his fist once, and Greywulf could not help but sympathize, if only the slightest bit, with Nyalee. Unable to die, yet left with nothing. It was a wonder that she had not been driven mad... or perhaps she had.

Nyalee smiled, and those watching found it slightly more chilling than the scowls that normally lay upon her features. "The heart is the key, is it not? To kill Yaga-Shura, his invulnerability must be overcome, and his heart must be returned to him."

"But you said that it would take years to perform the ritual to return someone's heart to them." Imoen frowned. "We don't even know the rituals-"

"The rituals are only used if one wishes to *survive* the rejoining process..." Nyalee hissed, and with that, it all was made clear. "His ritual is complete, and the heart's flame cannot simply be quenched by letting the fire die, as mine can. But if you were to return his heart to him without performing the rituals, he would most certainly perish in the rejoining. He would suffer agony like nothing he has felt before... and then the essence of his life would be torn from him, shattered into the void!"

"You're enjoying that thought way too much." Imoen grimaced, shaking her head slightly. "But it's a start, I guess. You got an idea where we can find this heart o' his?"

Nyalee pointed behind her... and upward, at the mountains lining the darkened horizon. "The Marching Mountains- filled with fire and stone and ash! Broken open to reveal the lava running beneath during the Time of Troubles! Seek out the temple of followers he has recruited in the hills. He will keep it guarded under lock and key, watched over by fire giants who worship him as a god... so foolish. He is not Bhaal... not yet."

"And he won't be, either. Not if we have our way." Greywulf nodded slightly, gesturing toward the others. "We'd best be on our way then- it's a long road ahead to the Hills of Fire. For what it's worth... thank you for your help."

"Worth more than you think, god-child." Nyalee said slowly, as the group filed out, eager to be away from the corrupting influence of this former house of evil. "Your visit has been the first human contact I have had in years- should you wish to return, I shall tell you what I know of the other god-spawn, of the powers and goals of the Lord of Murder. Perhaps if you ascend to the Throne of Bhaal, you will not forget me here in this desolate place. My only request is that you kill my boy before returning."

Her words were oddly sincere- and Greywulf realized that for all her evil, for all the deeds she had performed, wicked or not, she was a broken woman. Perhaps one with the powers of a powerful witch at her fingertips, but one who sought the comfort of simple companionship, even if only for a brief few minutes. And he could not help but pity her once more. He nodded slowly, ignoring the surprised glare from Jaheira, Sarevok and Imoen as he spoke. "Mayhap we will, if your promise holds true. Farewell."

X X X X X X

The sound of armor plates clattering provided a constant din as the ground thundered with the footsteps of marching men, perfectly in formation, their stature unmatched in regality and perfection. Their helmets gleamed in the sunlight and their shields bore the symbol of righteous fervor. Two brigades of knights, each with a flag bearer at the lead, the Radiant Heart showing no fear in the face of the enemies they marched to strike against.

The plight of Saradush had not gone unnoticed- as soon as the Radiant Heart had determined just how dire the threat truly was, as many knights as could be spared were drawn together and sent on their way to help those trapped inside against those besieging it. Which, of course, had been anticipated long ago. Of course the Radiant Heart would get involved. How could they not? The only surprise was that it had taken them this long to arrive. Or perhaps not such a surprise, considering how many diversions had been set up to delay their arrival, making sure that the city had long since fallen by the time they arrived. Still, they had fought their way through hordes of enemies, all with the express purpose of delaying them. And delay them they did, even if their attempts at killing the knights had failed miserably. This was the best of the best that the Order had to offer.

Each knight was the equivalent of ten men in combat- numbering four hundred, there were paladins, knights, and even a few clerics in their midst. They were prepared for anything- prepared to push back the forces of the fire giant and send their evil back to the darkness from whence it came. And at the head, leading his men into battle with no concern for himself, only for those he fought beside, was one of the greatest the Radiant Heart could claim in their ranks, Sir Ryan Trawl. His helmet tucked in one hand to provide some measure of comfort in the sweltering heat, his shield tightly gripped in the other, he could not help but feel that, for all the danger and evil that was besieging the city, this was not his battle to fight. Should not be his battle, rather. His place should have been at Watcher's Keep, fighting the evil locked within and aiding the Knights of the Vigil. Instead, that task had fallen to Anomen Delryn. Anomen the Brave. Anomen the Hate-filled. Anomen the Skilled. Anomen the Haughty. For every positive quality that made him a perfect candidate for the Order, Sir Ryan could name another that would drum a lesser man out of the Order within moments. That he had stayed in contention for the rank of Knight this long spoke to something... he wasn't sure what. Foolishness on the part of him and the Prelate? Perhaps. A dedication that would not be overcome so easily within Anomen? Also possible.

Still, even if the man was the absolute epitome of the character the Order demanded, he did not feel he was ready for the task he had been sent on. To be handed a mission of such paramount importance when still a squire, especially one so controversial in the minds of the rest of the Order... it was a decision Sir Ryan feared that both he and the Prelate would regret. Still, it had been the Prelate's decision to send the young man on this task- a final test of his worth, one way or another. And true to what they had said, there was really nobody else. The Wars that the Bhaalspawn wrought demanded their full attention lest it devour the entirety of Amn. If their conflicts remained among each other, the Order would be more than happy to let them simply expend their armies on one another. Even the burning of a few villages, as horrid as it sounded, could be ignored if the multitude of conflicts took place without harming innocents. But when they besieged a full city, when Saradush came under attack, it was decided that such a thing could not stand. And so Sir Ryan was sent with the strongest knights that could be mustered and sent to put an end to the evil that had killed so many, this... Yaga-Shura.

Trawl's eyes narrowed under the high sun, even as the smell of burning flesh and ash caught his senses. They were getting close. The skies above were no longer a bright blue, but dingy gray, choked with the cloud of ashes and smoke that erupted from the burnt carcass of Saradush. The city was just over the next hilltop, a perfect place to launch a counterattack from- or to launch an ambush. Sir Ryan held a clenched fist up, signaling to the men behind him to halt, the silent order sweeping back through the ranks as the knights and paladins halted, an inaudible wash of excitement and nervousness flowing among them. They were nearly to their target, battle would be upon them in moments. Sir Ryan inhaled sharply, trying to quell the sudden urge to charge the hill in a wash of bodies and valorous cries. Several years ago, he would not have hesitated- he had been headstrong, far too eager for battle. It had only been when he had managed to combine his unrivaled skill on the battlefield with a patience that could only be taught through experience that he had truly ascended to the higher ranks of the Order, finally recognized as having the wisdom to share Prelate Wessaren's counsel, Keldorn Firecam's advice... were the venerable paladin still alive.

No, there would be no glorious charge for honor and death today. First and foremost, his concern was to ensure that each man under his command made it back home alive. A blind rush would accomplish little more than expending their energy for a charge undoubtedly met halfway by an enemy with the high-ground advantage. Still, those above would not simply give their position away either... so something had to be done. Ryan Trawl extended an arm, made a chopping motion with an arc toward the hillside, then gathered his strength, saying a prayer to Helm.

Those in the rear of the formation carried longbows and held two types of arrows in their quivers- arrows of fire and arrows of ice. The fire enchantments would obviously do little against the Fire Giants, but for their purposes, they would be enough. The back half of both brigades drew arrows and took aim over the top of the hillside, holding steady as sweat rolled down their faces. Sir Ryan waited a brief moment, then shouted a single word. "Fire!"

Two volleys took flight, the marksmen shooting true, the hillside was just low enough to allow the arrows to sail over top, landing upon targets unseen opposite them on the upper portion of the hill that was obscured to them. The sound of an onrush of flame due to the enchantments was setting the land ablaze, and Sir Ryan could see hints of flame licking the upper edges of the hill. If he had been wrong and they had truly taken their enemy by surprise, it would at least give them a buffer as they made their way to the top of the hill. If not- shouts and screams of fury erupted as hundreds of soldiers swarmed over the top of the hill, flying down the hillside with axes and swords in hands. With that sight, the fear and concern Sir Trawl had felt melted away as he planted his helmet atop his head with one firm motion, drew his blade and shield and shouted the order, "Hold!!"

He retreated back to the center between the formations as the two groups swept out to become one, a wall of shields raised by those in front, the ones right behind keeping their shields up to deflect any arrows- there. A return volley struck back at them, most striking the raised shields, though a few slipped in and the screams of a few of his men tightened Sir Ryan's throat. He knew that his own archers would be readying their own bows to do the same shooting through small cracks allowed in their shield formation. "Fire!"

More arrows emerged to strike the men rushing downhill, sending their bodies tumbling into the wall of shields ahead of their living brethren- seconds before the living wave hit. Sir Ryan braced his footing as flesh impacted against their shields, the sound of blades striking metal echoing next to his head as they tried to swing their weapons down and over the top of their formation, only to hit the shields raised above by the men second in line. He felt his body get pushed back, boots digging into the soil as the man he faced slammed into his shield, nearly bowling him over- and Sir Ryan took advantage of that momentum, lowering his own body and pushing upwards with all his might, launching the man over the top of him and sending him rolling behind their lines where one of his own men would surely finish him off. He returned to his guard position just in time as another man hit, this time giving him no room or time to perform the same maneuver. Another volley of arrows, and another round of the enemy fell to the ground, their bodies burning with magical flame.

The main wave had hit, abandoned their high ground advantage- Sir Ryan bellowed the order and led the counter-attack, sweeping his shield out once, twice, then a third time to smash the jaw of the man in front of him and send him to the ground. He came down with a final thrust of his sword to end his attacker's life, even as his own men flanked him, sweeping forward on their own. He felt an onrush of power and energy flood his body and he knew that the clerics he had brought with them were doing their job. Too many targets to be of use picking people out with offensive spells- their blessings and chants would have to do instead. The sound of an explosion rocked the ground nearby, and he glanced to see several knights smoking, lying on the ground, before trying desperately to get up before their opponents killed them on the ground.

A fireball hurled by a mage from atop the hill- their clerics were also Protecting them from Fire as best they could, but if the mages above were left to their own devices for very long, it would decimate the ranks of the knights. No doubt the archers were already bringing their bows to bear on the mages, or as best they could at such a range. He pushed those worries out of his head and instead focused on the battle before him- a splash of warm blood hit him in the face as he chopped downwards again, cutting through flesh and blood and armor with the enchanted blade he held, keeping his men moving forward. Let the mages be concerned with them rushing the hill. Not that they were in any position to do so.

A thump hit the ground. Then another. The whole earth shook and the light passing over the top of the hillside darkened as several massive silhouettes appeared, a particularly tall one with blazing orange hair and a beard that came down to his chest. He was wearing plate armor that left half his chest exposed, and held a war hammer that was easily the size of Sir Ryan himself. Yaga-Shura laughed madly as he looked down upon the fighting, then waved his arm forward, marching down the hillside with a dozen fire giants at his side. After days of searching through the rubble of the city, he had killed dozens of Bhaalspawn, weak and insignificant. He had heard from those he tortured that the wards of Gorion were even seen inside. But despite all his efforts, he was rewarded with nothing more than ants to be crushed beneath his heel. This would provide... an amusing distraction.

X X X X X X

"So how are you, little brother?"

Greywulf glanced to his left, something akin to a wry smile crossing his cracked and parched lips. When the witch had told them that the place they sought was cracked open by the gods, revealing the fires of the earth beneath, he had taken some of that as hyperbole. Upon arrival at the base of the mountain range, they had seen streams of lava and volcanic rivers flowing freely from and into the earth's crust. Even with Protection from Fire spells shielding every one of them, the heat was almost unbearable. They had to plan their routes such that they stayed as far from the open lava streams as possible, and that led them through some... interesting terrain. Such as climbing cliff faces of hot, dirty rock and navigating trails that mountain goats would find difficult to traverse.

Reaching a large outcropping among the cliffs they were trying to ascend, they had unanimously decided to make camp there for the day. They had hiked from the Forest of Mir to the Mountains of Fire, through the night, and the day offered no comfort for the sweltering heat. Not that sleeping would come easy, but better to have some kind of rest during the day, in a place where nobody in the right mind would look for them, and give them a chance to take their foes by surprise in the night.

Imoen's question was not unusual in the fact that she cared about Greywulf, nor that she was interested in talking when the last thing on anyone's mind at the moment would be... well, anything besides curling up in a ball and trying to wring some kind of rest out of their short respite. What was strange was that she called him 'little brother'- usually she was more than content to take the role of younger sibling. Not that either of them knew which was older. Still, he wrestled his aching body around to face her, leaning against the cliff face with tangled locks of hair clinging to his face, sweat trails running through the dirt and dust covering his features. "Well, I'm hot, tired, my waterskin's almost empty, and I'm one wayward step from falling to a bone-crunchingly painful fall to my death. So... not so bad. You?"

Imoen rolled her eyes, seating herself beside him, looking at him beneath glistening pink hair. "Yeah well, no need to be all snarky. That's my job, 'member."

He nodded slightly with a smile, leaning his head back again as his gaze lazily drifted over the rest of the group. Aerie was absolutely dying in the heat- she and Minsc were seated back to back, with the ranger using his massive body to provide her with some small measure of shade. Her blonde hair hung limply around the skin of her face, usually light and cream colored, but now bright red with a sunburn that would undoubtedly hurt in a matter of hours. Sarevok sat alone, as usual, as did Jaheira. The bronze skin of the druidess gleamed with sweat as she tried to keep herself in the shade, still tucked away from the others. She had said little while they had trekked, and Greywulf had allowed himself to hope that perhaps she had overcome the doubts within her about Khalid and Gorion... what they would think of their relationship.

"So what did you want to talk about, Im? Seems like you're feeling a little better. That's good, isn't it?"

"It is..." Imoen shrugged, undoing the cloak she and most of them wore, using it as a cushion beneath and behind her. "But I'm not here to talk about me- I saw what you did back in the Pocket Plane. Yer some kinda stupid, y'know that?"

"Sure do. But you'll have to be more specific." the half-elf chuckled, digging through his pack for the waterskin inside. He raised it high and squeezed another mouthful out of it. The water was warm and he nearly choked, swallowing too quickly, but it felt like heaven to the dehydrated sorcerer. He corked the skin again and glanced at her with a brief smile on his face. "Well go ahead. It's too hot to guess what you're onto here. And we've done this little dance often enough for me to know I need to hear whatever it is you're going to tell me."

"Take all the fun out of it, why don'tcha." She chuckled, then nodded, losing some of the smile. "You always do this, you know. You always try and help everyone but yerself. When are you gonna start asking for help? If I didn't know better, I'd say yer as stupid as Jaheira sometimes."

He couldn't help but laugh, knowing that the druid would've smacked both of them in another time and place, had she heard them. "Can't deny that. What can I say, it's been a rough week."

"So?" Imoen curled up beside him, her eyes fixed on him, the tone in her voice telling him that she was all ears- the same impish girl that he knew and loved, but his sister and his stalwart nonetheless. "Tell me about it."

He had a bizarre mental picture of a list stretching over the whole outcropping that contained all his problems, but he shook it off, choosing instead to sigh and list them off one at a time. "Well, we're fighting a six person war on some of the most powerful Bhaalspawn on Faerun, I'm worried sick that my choices are going to get everyone here killed, we're carting Sarevok of all people around with us, we agreed to try and kill an invincible fire giant, my taint is flaring up like a bad rash and Jaheira is going back and forth on our relationship, refusing to talk about the fact we're engaged. Maybe I should have given her a ring or something..."

As he spoke, Greywulf's mind finally caught up with his words and kicked him squarely in the teeth. He cut off immediately, looking at Imoen, who for her part, wore an expression of complete disbelief. He winced, knowing just how much Jaheira was going to kill him for this...

"What did you just say?" Imoen asked with a grin blossoming over her face. "Yer kidding, right? Gods, you aren't, are you!"

"By Mystra, keep it down!" Greywulf hissed, moving to try and clamp a hand over her mouth, but Imoen beat him to it, putting both hands over her mouth as she veritable hopped up and down whilst seated. "I am going to regret telling you this, aren't I..."

"No! No, you won't." Imoen nearly squealed with excitement, grabbing Greywulf's hands and looking at him with expectancy. "When? Where?! How come you didn't tell me, y'bufflehead?!"

"Ow." Greywulf ringed from the arm smack she'd just given him, exhaling quietly as he glanced over at the woman, taking distinct note that despite being as filthy as the rest of them, she looked as beautiful as ever. "I didn't tell you or the others because I knew this is exactly what you would do, and I knew that Jaheira would despise the attention. As for when... you remember back when we are about to fight Irenicus for the last time, in that tainted version of Hell? Well... it just kind of happened, I don't know..."

Imoen went slack-jawed... and then smacked him in the arm again. "You are absolutely clueless sometimes, y'know that? You proposed to the woman you love in a miniature plane of Hell. Ever hear of something called romance?"

"Forgive me for thinking Jaheira to be less the chocolate-and-flowers and more the shiny-new-armor kind of girl." he retorted, rubbing the place she had hit him twice gingerly. "Besides, I thought we were going to die. It seemed appropriate, I suppose."

"Appropriate? No no no no no." Imoen shook her head with a roll of the eyes and a sigh. "Appropriate is when one of them noble ladies spends a couple hund'rd gold on some dress she'll wear once and then gets her pocket picked by lil' ol me. Appropriate is not proposing to the woman you love when yer seconds away from death in a place that's an awful lot like... oh, I dunno, Hell! That's... I'm not sure what that is, but don't worry, because your much wiser sister is here to help."

"Hey now, that is out of the ques-" he began to protest before she shook her head, raising a hand to cut him off.

"Nope. Not gonna take no for an answer on this one. First thing you need to do is get her a ring. Preferably not one you just chopped off some bandit's hand, ok? No blood stains. She says she doesn't want one, then she's lying. Trust me- when I have led you wrong? Next thing is I'll go talk to her about this Khalid-Gorion thing that's been getting her down. Yer not the only one with eyes, y'know. Pretty sure everyone here knows what's eating at her."

"Imoen, this is not something you can just hop into and take lightly." Greywulf grabbed her by the arm, his tone warning her to take things slower. "I love her, all right? If she's not ready for something that was made on a spur of the moment decision, then that's her right and I'm going to respect it. And if she needs to talk with someone about... I don't know, guilt over our relationship, it should be with me. I love you, but please take this in the way it's meant when I tell you that I want you to stay out of this, okay?"

He calmed a moment, looking into Imoen's eyes for a brief second before sighing with despair. "You're not going to listen to a word I just said, are you?"

"Nope."

He leaned back against the cliff-side, running one hand over his face to wipe the sweat away, Imoen laughing quietly as she leaned beside him. "I thought this was supposed to be helping me with my problems, not creating more of them."

"Oh yeah... well that's easy. Stop trying to control everyone's actions and acknowledge that they can handle themselves without your constant input. We're all keeping an eye on Sarevok so if he tries anything, we'll burn him down like we did the last two times. If this whole heart-magic-thing works out like Nyalee said, we're set on that front. Oh, and I'm sure Jaheira can make a cream for that last one."

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say... then laughed and leaned back beside her, draping one arm around her shoulder.

"Eww... yer all sweaty."

"Oh, like you're any better."

X X X X X X

Anomen's chest, stripped bare of his armor and tunic, rose and fell in rhythm as Solaufein and Reynald watched with concern present in both of the men's features. Still, the two clerics who ran the chantry at De'Arnise Keep were attending him, murmuring their spells and blessings as they attempted to heal the injuries inflicted upon his spirit.

Two of the guards of the Keep were posted at the door, their eyes never leaving the two men, their weapons returned to them after it had been determined just who the intruders actually were. Still, their 'interesting' method of entry had left the guard suspicious, and despite having heard of their arrival, their identities and giving them clemency, Nalia had yet to come see them. Just one more strange action by the idealistic noble that Solaufein had known. "Will he be all right?" Reynald finally spoke up, his concern for their mutual companion overriding any awkward tension that remained between the guards and the two visitors. "He was wounded by dark magics- but surely your spells can-"

"Best let them do their work uninterrupted." Solaufein spoke quietly, raising a hand to stop the former knight from speaking. "We should let them heal Anomen and then be on our way. This place is less... hospitable, then I would have imagined."

"I had thought you said prior that you knew the Lady of the Keep. Saved her life, in fact. Surely she would not ignore such a debt so easily." Reynald frowned, shaking away his matted blonde hair, down from wearing his helmet for so long. "If nothing else, we should take the opportunity to restock and resupply. 'Tis a long journey from here to Watcher's Keep, if my memory serves me well."

"It is, and a year ago, I would have agreed with you about Lady Nalia. But something has changed here, with this place." the drow murmured. "There is no refuge to be found, so far as I can see. We will be better served finding our own allies elsewhere. Still- perhaps I am reading too much into this. I should speak with her myself- it might shed light on this mystery of sorts."

"Then I shall come with you. As you say, there is little I can do to aid our companion, and perhaps my mind shall be clearer upon meeting this Nalia."

The two men headed for the door, but before they could reach it, the portal swung open revealing a man dressed in the silver armor of the Captain of the guard. Solaufein arched an eyebrow, the last man to wear that plate was Arat, a good man and a stalwart defender of the De'Arnise lands. He had died in the final assault by Firkraag's orcs upon the Keep, and an ornate statue of him standing alongside the former Lord De'Arnise, Nalia's father, stood in the courtyard. He stopped, clenched his fist to his chest and bowed slightly in a military salute, nodding to Solaufein. "Excuse me, my lords. I beg your forgiveness for the poor reception you received upon arrival. I am here to escort you to Lady Nalia. She will see you now."

"Perhaps you think me rude, but could she not have made the time earlier?" Reynald questioned. "Honor dictates that when one is beset by a friend who needs help, it should be done immediately, not after the rudest of welcomes we have received."

"I know not who you are, but I shall not argue your words." the Captain spoke solemnly, nodding to Reynald before turning to Solaufein. "And I shall not doubt the word of a man who travels with one of the saviors of the Keep. I doubt you remember me, Solaufein of Ust Natha. I am Cernick, formally under Captain Arat, and now Captain of the guard under Lady Nalia."

"Captain Cernick." Solaufein accepted the proffered handshake- it was still a ritual he was uncomfortable with, but he had gotten used to it. "Lead the way, and we shall ask as we go. You were here during the invasion- the atmosphere in this place has changed, has it not?"

"Indeed, though I suppose it can hardly be unexpected. War changes people, and Nalia has been at war nearly every day since her father was taken by the damned trolls." Cernick said grimly, walking them through the torch-lit halls of the Keep. Passing through what looked like a lounging area for nobility and guests- it had been a weapons store the last time Solaufein had been here- Cernick continued his tale. "Indeed, even after Firkraag was defeated and you and your company left for parts unknown, Nalia found herself besieged by a new kind of enemy- a political force led by the Roenall's, disputing Nalia's claim to the lands. What started as political posturing, bribes and threats quickly turned into a full-fledged invasion led by Lord Farthington Roenall. He led his troops to the very gates of the Keep."

"Nalia mentioned the Roenall family during our time spent here..." Solaufein paused, speaking more to Reynald than Captain Cernick. "I had not imagined them bold enough to try a full-fledged coup by way of military force."

"Nor had I." Cernick shook his head. "We were... unprepared to fight a force that powerful. Were it a battle down to military might alone, the Roenall's would have taken this Keep and Lady Nalia would've been tried and locked up at best, or forced to marry Isaea Roenall, at worse."

"Your words betray the distaste you feel for this family." Reynald remarked. "Are they truly so corrupt?"

"More so than you know." Cernick growled. "Our only reason for victory came at the hand of Nalia herself. Against all my wishes, she came to lead the charge of her forces at the gate of the Keep- and I admit I did not expect to see the power that my Lady commanded wielded so... effectively. With the power of the elements and... darker, magics in hand, she drove them off and slew Lord Farthington herself. Since then, no noble family has dared question her rule in these lands. She has emerged as one of the premiere nobles in the courts at Athkatla. She commands great respect when she speaks in the Government districts- it has brought her greater power and wealth than that which her father owned as ruler of these lands."

"Interesting... I had not thought her the sort to use her stature to gain power. She was always rather... idealistic, when I knew her."

"Perhaps, but idealism is nothing without the power to back it up- ah, we have arrived." Captain Cernick stopped at the large oak doors leading to the throne room of the Keep, opened them wide and bowed to the men. Lady Nalia has asked to see you alone. I shall wait outside. If there is any change in your companion, I shall inform you. It was good to see you once again, Solaufein."

The drow nodded to him and entered the throne room with Reynald in his wake. Standing across the room, clad in an armored mage's robe that showed both the royalty of her position and the power that she commanded, wearing flared armor at the shoulders with a light green sleeveless robe halting just before it touched the ground, the woman standing before them nodded once, a smile crossing her face when she saw Solaufein. "It is good to see you once again! My apologies for the rude welcome you received- had I know it was you barking at my front gate I should have given you a royal welcome to begin with."

Solaufein nodded frowning sideways as he saw Reynald take a knee before the noble- surely it was the proper, chivalrous response, though Solaufein saw little need with familiar companions. Nalia, however, not only saw but obviously appreciated the gesture- she smiled broadly and walked to Reynald, bidding him rise with one hand. "I see you have a friend, and a noble one at that. I am Lady De'Arnise, ruler of this Keep and these lands. You may call me Lady Nalia, if you prefer. You are?"

"Reynald, Reynald de Chatillon." the former knight spoke humbly, keeping his eyes low to the ground as he spoke with her. "You honor me with your words, m'lady. If there is anything I might do for you, I am at your service."

"Mmm. I shall keep your offer under consideration- I might have use for a new guard soon enough, after what idiocy they displayed today." Nalia's eyes flashed with anger, and her beautiful features quickened with irritation. "Do not worry about your treatment upon arrival- the guard who set my forces upon you is being punished as we speak- when he is well enough to leave the dungeon, I shall have him dismissed from my service for his failures."

"You mean to say he is being tortured... a rather harsh punishment for a simple case of... overzealousness, wouldn't you say?" Solaufein frowned. Not to say he had sympathy for the stubborn guard, but he was willing to play Devil's Advocate if it meant learning a bit more into the woman standing before him that he thought he knew.

"Oh, 'tis not simply for attacking you and your companions, dear man." Nalia laughed. "To allow two conceivably hostile strangers not only inside the walls, but to open the gates as well? Absolutely unacceptable. But enough of such dismal thoughts. From the state of Sir Anomen, it appears you have been off on your usual adventures, have you not? Please, I have been engaged in withering banter and negotiations with the assorted snobs of the city all day- it is why I could not greet you the moment I knew of your arrival. A tale of adventure and questing would do me good to hear. We shall have dinner served and you shall tell me all about how you have fared since our last meeting. I simply shall not take no for an answer. Reynald, I insist that you join us as well. To travel alongside this fine drow warrior, surely you must have some tales of your own, no?"

"Ah... nothing worthy of remembrance by the bards, I fear." Reynald coughed into his palm, and Solaufein noticed with a hint of amusement that the chivalrous knight's cheeks were flushing pink under the attentions of the admittedly beautiful Nalia.

"Nonsense- you shall regale me with your words and I shall be the judge of how worthy of remembrance they are. Come, and let no man say that the De'Arnise court does not attend to her guests well." Nalia announced, waving a hand for them to follow as she walked, the heels of her dark green boots clacking against the stone floor as she led them across the Throne Room toward the main dining hall.

To the surprise of the two warriors, food had already been brought to the table before they arrived, and three places were set, two alongside one another with the third opposite them. Nalia waited for the two servants to seat her guests, then for them to seat her as well. She clasped her hands and waved for them to partake as her gaze ran over the two of them. "Please, begin. I am not as hungry as I might have supposed after speaking with the fools who consider themselves the 'nobles' of Athkatla. It does wonders to curb one's appetite. The only good thing that comes from inviting them to the Keep, I think."

"Your opinion seems to have changed little of the nobility since our last meeting." Solaufein said, not touching his plate, though Reynald ate slowly, his eyes flashing back and forth between the food before him and Nalia. "I heard something from Captain Cernick of an invasion after we left?"

"Dogs, all of them!" Nalia cursed, her brows furrowing as she folded her arms before her, leaning forward and shaking her head. "The Roenall's are hardly worth remembering anymore. I presume Cernick told you of their attempted coup? They had the nerve to try and invade my home! After everything I had done to make this land flourish once again after Father's death, they dared attack me at my very doorstep! And had they tried a year prior, I would have been helpless to stop them. But you see, after everything that happened with Firkraag, I swore I would not be so helpless ever again. I took every opportunity to study the magics that Greywulf displayed in saving my home the first time, so that I could wield that power myself. With the Cowled Wizards in disarray, I was able to acquire several tomes that might have otherwise been... frowned upon, shall we say?"

"So it appears." Solaufein remarked, finally taking a token piece of his food as Reynald cut in.

"You are to be congratulated, m'lady. You defended your home and the people within. No populace could ask for more from their leader."

Nalia nodded in agreement, chuckling sigh. "If only it were so easy. The petty affairs of day-to-day ruling are tiresome bothers when compared to the thrill of the fight, I fear. My goal was always to stand up for the poor folk of my lands, the downtrodden. Now that I have raised them from the dregs they were living in, I find little challenge here in the De'Arnise lands. As you say, after saving them from the rule of a tyrant like Farthington Roenall, holding their loyalty and respect is... well, little more than simple gratitude."

"It is only natural to assume you keep this place under tighter lock and key since the attacks." Solaufein spoke quietly, gesturing to the double guards posted at each doorway. "I admit that I found it surprising to see the Keep bridge raised upon our arrival."

"Yes, though what I am surprised about is that it took so long for me to learn my lesson." Nalia shook her head with regret. "I thought I could rule these lands through simple benevolence- that my gifts to the unfortunate would inspire their loyalty. T'was true, to an extent. But for some, the only language they will respect is that of power. And any semblance of weakness will inspire them to strike. I will no longer tolerate that weakness in my Keep. The castle is secure under Captain Cernick's guard, the De'Arnise lands have proven their strength against any outside foe, and most importantly of all, I have shown myself to be no feeble noblewoman, more concerned with the quality of my next dress or the seating at the latest play. I command power, and respect."

"Ruling with a rod of iron?" Solaufein stopped, glancing around the room for a moment. "I had not thought you the sort, Nalia."

"A rod of magic, more appropriately." Nalia smirked, letting sparks of purple lightning dance from her red-painted fingernails. "But as I said before, enough of such thoughts. I hear enough from my advisors here, much less my friends. Tell me- just what brings you to my doorstep?"

Reynald looked at Solaufein, and without a single word the drow knew three things. One, that Reynald was dying to be the one to tell Nalia of their mission. Two, that Nalia was a new woman- whether that woman was one he could trust was yet to be determined. Three... Reynald was totally smitten with her. The fool probably didn't even know it himself-

"We need you to accompany us to Watcher's Keep, m'lady. It is of the utmost importance." Reynald blurted out, his voice filled with earnest conviction.

Solaufein froze, as did Nalia, both of them staring at Reynald, one with confusion and surprise, the other with a glare that would melt adamantine.

Nalia shook her head and smiled weakly, replying with, "What?"

Solaufein shook his head and cursed, silently wishing that he was unconscious along with Anomen.


	19. Part 1: The Heart of the Matter

The night sky was a relief to those below, content to be burdened with the heat from below- no need for the sun to torment them with its unyielding rays as well. The moon might have been full- or perhaps it was a sliver of its glory. It could truly not be told- there was far too much ash and smoke in the sky to deliver any kind of view towards the stars above. Breathing was like inhaling a soup, an unrelenting fog that choked them even as they pressed further and further- six men and women, blinking sweat from their eyes as their tired bodies scaled the final inches of the mountain to cross the summit- there. A beacon in the dark, there stood a temple nearly twelve men high, built into the very mountains themselves.

Greywulf wiped the grime from his face and squinted into the night, his vision made clearer by the braziers lit and filled with coal, ever burning, ever crackling as smoke rose from them to join the fog all above and around. The faint illumination would have been meager if not for the torches that lined the walls of the temple, spaced every twenty feet and mounted directly to the walls themselves until they reached the cliff face. In the glimmering firelight, shadows were thrown upon the walls, vast and massive to match those who cast them. Two fire giants, armored in heavy plate mail and holding axes that were easily the size of Minsc, stood guard with the stoic features of those assured of the sanctity of their home- after all, who would be stupid enough to assault the very temple of their lord and their god, the Bhaalspawn Yaga-Shura?

A false god, he... and as for who was stupid enough, nobody had ever accused him of being the brightest torch, Greywulf smiled wryly as he slid back down below the crest of the mountain they'd scaled to reach this vantage point. The others followed suit, watching him as he exhaled, letting his thoughts settle. He began to reach for his waterskin, then grimaced, realizing that they'd exhausted the last of their supplies during the climb. At this point they were out of water and food, and options were somewhat limited. Water cantrips were notoriously unsatisfying when it came to drinking, not to mention the difficulty in gathering or swallowing water that appeared in mid-air. Transporting back to the Pocket Plane for a bit of quick rest was an appealing thought, but from eye-witness accounts, the act of transportation was a rather... showy one, and they were too close to the temple to risk being seen and their element of surprise stripped away.

Greywulf pushed away thoughts of refreshment and focused on the task at hand- which was not surprisingly just as unappealing as thinking about the water that didn't exist in his pack. Had to think though- the others were waiting on him to- Imoen's advice from their last talk echoed in his mind, and he felt a weight in his chest relieve itself as the pieces fell into place... for him, anyway. "I think I've got an idea... maybe."

"Then speak up, for Minsc desires to test his mettle against the ones who are even bigger than he! And that is saying something, let me tell you..." Minsc began eagerly, before being nudged by Aerie.

"We need this... heart, it seems. But if we try to storm the temple, we'll probably be overwhelmed. We have the advantage of surprise right now, and I think we should make full use of it." Greywulf mused. "We split into three teams. Imoen and I are the infiltration team- we go into the temple itself and try to find Yaga-Shura's heart. If everything goes as planned, they never know we were there."

The half-elf noticed Minsc's crestfallen features- he smiled and gestured towards Minsc. "Not to worry, big guy. You and Sarevok are team number two."

"Is that so. I can hardly contain my joy at being paired with the ranger." Sarevok growled, his eyes shimmering like two yellow suns in the dark. "And if the two of you are to retrieve the heart, what meaningless task would you have us perform?"

"What else?" Greywulf smirked. "Do what you two do best. Kill as many fire giants as you can."

The smiles that flashed across both Minsc and Sarevok's faces were those of men who knew their talents and how to put them to good use, and Greywulf felt a brief flash of pity for those that would be facing the Rashemani and the Deathbringer. Jaheira nodded slowly, listening to the plot as she crouched, glancing around every now and again to make sure their hiding spot and not been discovered by scouts. "Draw the giants out of the temple to give you and Imoen a better chance at remaining undetected. A wise move. And what of Aerie and I?"

"Leave Imoen and me to our task, for one thing." Greywulf shrugged. "Nobody else goes in except the two of us- any more and they'll realize what we're really up to. As for the other particulars- I'm leaving it up to you."

Aerie's brow knit in confusion for a moment, but Jaheira snorted and shrugged, pulling for Aerie to go with her. "As you will. Come, child. We have some planning to do."

"Wait for us to get inside before you start whatever ruckus y'think'll work best, okay?" Imoen asked the two warriors. "They'll never know we were there."

"No. No, they won't." Sarevok smiled grimly, feeling the comforting grip of the Sword of Chaos at his hip.

X X X X X X

Waking up after forcibly being made unconscious was something of a strange feeling. He had experienced it before- usually in battle, when an orc or a troll got behind him and landed a blow to his head. It was an entirely different feeling from passing out due to intoxication- that was fairly standard- wake up groggy with a headache- nothing that a bit of water and some time couldn't heal. Something like this though- entirely different. This was like all his senses had vanished, and they were slowly coming back. And when they came back, it was as painfully as possible. Anomen Delryn, squire of the Order, tried to grimace, knowing what was to come- and couldn't. Hnh. Perhaps movement would be later.

Out of reflex, he tried to swallow, lick his dried lips- ah. He could do that at least, and his throat burned as he did. There... that was the pain he had been waiting for. He would have laughed if he could have. Opening his eyes would be a great next step- no, apparently not. The moment his eyelids parted, the light around him burned too brightly for him to maintain it and he closed them again, allowing himself to simply breathe in and out as he lay there, wherever he was. Speaking of which, where was he?

The last thing he could remember was fighting... but who? Solaufein shouting curses in his native tongue- another warrior- Reynald, that was it. Pushing forward with his shield as he tried to press on against some kind of spellcaster- like Solaufein? Yes, that was it. Drow had ambushed them. Driders, Solaufein had called them. Monstrous creatures twisted and tainted by the Spider Queen herself. That he was able to awaken at all was sign that his companions had survived the battle after he had been disabled. A lance of pain shot through his body- he cringed, taking small comfort that feeling was returning to his body.

His sense of smell was coming back as well- roses? Was that what he smelled? Flowers of some kind- and smoke. Smoke and oil. Probably from torches. His hearing was beginning to return, even if everything sounded far too loud, like people were shouting in his ear. Voices- familiar voices, going back and forth in some kind of argument?

"-don't know what you're doing. You don't know her."

"-perhaps you- either. Why do you treat- like this? She has done nothing to harm us."

"I do not know what you are speaking about, but if you do not lower your voices I shall do something to harm you both." Anomen forced out, half moaning, half coughing.

Reynald de Chatillon and Solaufein both stopped their argument, turning to their prone friend as he struggled to sit up from the bed on which he had been lying since their arrival at De'Arnise Keep. "By Helm, it is good to see you awake once more." Reynald declared, lending a hand to his back. "We were worried for a time that you would never awake from the darkness that had consumed you in our battle."

"Parts of me are yet numb. What struck me down?" Anomen blinked once, twice, trying to get stop the dancing lights and spots from flickering through his vision.

"A drow priestess cast you down with an Unholy Blight." Solaufein stated calmly, leaning against the stonewall of the castle, arms folded as his white hair gleamed in the torchlight. "To be fair, it was little more than luck that yours was the kindest of injuries we suffered. To escape the snare of a heretic hunting party, driders and priestesses both- Lady Silverhair was watching over us, of that there is no doubt."

"Then I should offer my thanks once again, for saving my life in such a perilous situation."Anomen managed a smile, wincing briefly as he craned his neck to look around the carpeted room, the walls covered by tapestries and book shelves. "Though perhaps I should ask where you have brought me. There is something vaguely familiar, I think-"

"Sir Anomen! Your companions did not send word that you had awoken!"

The voice was unmistakable, and the cleric-warrior smiled broadly with a laugh as Nalia De'Arnise strode across the room to lower herself and embrace him as he sat up in the bed- she released him gently, reclaiming her more reserved, noble exterior after such a show of unbridled emotion. "I had worried for a time that my clerics here at the Temple Chantry would not be sufficient to heal your wounds, but it appears my fears were unfounded."

"I suppose there is no mistaking where my friends brought me in my hour of need." Anomen glanced towards Solaufein and Reynald, nodding to both with gratitude before returning his gaze to Nalia. "I find myself in your debt, m'lady. It is... good to see you again."

Reynald watched the two of them, then coughed lightly, bowing lightly to Nalia as her attention was drawn, then motioning Solaufein towards the exit. "Perhaps the two of us should depart and let the two of you catch up. Surely it has been some time since you have had the chance to catch up, old friends such as you are. We shall await your convenience before returning. There is much to do for our journey's preparations."

The noblewoman and the cleric shrugged with acceptance as the other pair left, closing the heavy wooden door and moving further out before resuming their conversation, away from prying ears or accidental eavesdroppers. "It is good to see him up and about- he will be ready to make way before nightfall, I am sure." Solaufein said, grimacing as he noted Reynald's features, suggesting that he was not ready to give up on the subject or tone of their prior talk. "And you will not give up your foolish notion about Lady Nalia accompanying us, I see. I tell you now that it is a poor choice and not one we should make lightly."

"And I say you are being overly hostile to a woman who has yet to give us a reason for such unworthy suspicions. Her attitudes seem no worse than any other noble I have spoken or conversed with- better than many, in fact. She desires to aid her people well enough- she has chosen to do so from a position of strength."

"I do not doubt her motives, but I question her methods." Solaufein shook his head grimly. "You forget that I have history with her- I knew Nalia De'Arnise, and the woman I spoke with a year ago is not the same woman we spoke with the last morn. She has changed, and I cannot see that it is for the better."

"You would judge her based purely on a simple change in demeanor? Come now, I had not thought you so petty upon our first meeting." Reynald said in disbelief. "Your time spent in the Underdark has made you paranoid! Surely you cannot believe that she is like one of your drow plotters, treacherous and waiting to stab us in the back at first opportunity?"

The mention of Solaufein's home and former life made the drow's eyes narrow- he spoke without feeling or remorse. "And perhaps it is you whose thoughts are clouded. Was your banishment from the Order not due to your involvement with a lady of questionable morals and lifestyle? Will you let another pretty face and bat of the eyelashes pull you further into ruin?"

Reynald's face flushed and his hand went to his sword hilt out of reflex, before he loosened it, though the tightness in his features showed no sign of vanishing. "Were we not allies in this matter that Anomen has called us into, I would demand a blood duel from you for such an insult. As you have proven your worth in the past I shall let it slide, but I warn you- do not bring up such matters again."

The two men remained locked in a glare for several moments before De Chatillon exhaled loudly, turning away from the drow and flexing his arms against the leather tunic he wore over the thin chain mail beneath. "Such arguments among us are pointless. I have said my peace, as have you. I suspect neither of us will change our minds on this subject- perhaps it is only fitting that Anomen should have the final say in this matter."

"Should it come down to it." Solaufein nodded reluctantly. "She has not even agreed to join us on this venture. But I agree- Anomen has known her as long as I- longer, even. The choice should be his alone though- neither of us shall attempt to influence his decision in the matter. All he can know is that she was offered the chance to join us and that we shall support whatever his decision may be, should she accept. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Reynald nodded, coughing gently before mustering his nerve. "I... ah, I should apologize for the comments I made about your former life. It could not have been an easy place to live your life, the cavernous depths of the Underdark. My words were ill-thought out in the heat of the moment."

"I'm aware of that." Solaufein remarked mildly, before turning on his heel and stalking away, pausing only briefly to toss back over his head, "And to be clear- I hope I'm wrong about Nalia."

"You are." Reynald called back, watching him disappear around a corner, before turning to face the door that Nalia and Anomen spoke and chatted behind. He thought briefly of Celestine and her involvement in his downfall from the Order- Nalia had eyes just like her... Reynald cursed and spun away from the door, following the same path Solaufein had taken.

X X X X X X

_A mission just like any other. That was the plan. Two Harper agents on a stakeout, one taking shifts sleeping while the other kept watch on the dock. Not that it was an easy job- the fog shrouding the docks was like an impenetrable veil, covering everything within and only the faintest of shapes could be made out in the darkened cold of the night. Still, this was the place. If the slave trades were to take place as planned, it would be here. Tonight. Once they had irrefutable evidence of the transactions- visual confirmation of the slavers and their captives, then and only then could they take action. Until that point, all they could do was wait. The Harper keeping watch stifled a yawn, then moved to awaken her partner- he stirred before her fingers had a chance to touch him. "Trouble sleeping?"_

_ "S-something like that." Khalid smiled weakly as he pushed himself to a sitting position, still hid along with Jaheira behind a cleverly made blind composed of barrels, crates and ship components. None of them were actually real or had any use for anybody- therefore nobody would be inclined to take them or investigate what was behind them. Khalid sat up completely and glanced out into the foggy night air- still nothing. No sign of the slavers ship arriving or of any prisoners being moved under cover of night._

_ "If you had trouble sleeping, take some more time to rest." Jaheira offered, running a hand across Khalid's arm gently, glancing between the dock they were watching and her partner. Partner... and more. Her lover. Not just physically though. She had been intimate with few men before Khalid- those she had been with ended up little more than old memories, people she would much rather forget for various reasons. With Khalid, though... he loved her. Loved. She felt... safe, with him around. She knew he would do anything to protect her... he would do anything she asked of him. And yet, here they were, their first time alone in over a month, and what was it about? Some romantic dinner, or perhaps a simple time of relaxation amidst the woods, enjoying the bounty nature had to offer? No. They were sitting on a cold, foggy dock, watching for men who would gladly murder them if they knew that they were Harpers. _

_ "Madness..." Jaheira murmured to herself, even as Khalid finally got to his watch position, placing one hand on his sword hilt as his half-elven eyes peered out into the night, much as she had done for the last hours. He glanced to meet her uncertain gaze, and smiled comfortingly. He didn't need to say anything- his words were stilted at times and his stutter was ever-present, but one look from him was enough and she knew... she'd spend the rest of her life with him, even if that life could end at any moment. It was a risk she was willing to take-_

"Jaheira? Are you all right?"

Aerie's voice cut into her thoughts, and Jaheira blinked once, quickly regaining her thoughts, her whereabouts. What was she doing, daydreaming about the past at a time like this? She inhaled sharply, and fixed Aerie with the confident, semi-superior glare that she was so very infamous for. "Of course. Have Imoen and Greywulf moved yet?"

"No, they're still waiting on Minsc and Sarevok to make their diversion." Aerie bit her lip, that small gesture that told on her whenever she was uncertain. Jaheira normally might've left her to her own devices, let her worry about whatever was eating on her mind and offered advice should she ask. But in all fairness, Jaheira needed something to take the edge of her mind, something to keep her from pondering the tragedy of Khalid's death, of her worries, confirmed at Irenicus' hands- and how it was all repeating itself. Of how those very same thoughts and fears were rising up once again, only this time, she had more to worry about than simple death. If only it were that easy-

"Do we have a plan? I had an idea, but I figured you would already know what we were going to do and would tell me once the time was right..." Aerie offered, and Jaheira forced herself to concentrate. "You just seem... distracted, that's all."

"I am fine." she said brusquely, then gestured down towards the rocky plateau where Imoen and Greywulf had moved to, halfway down the hill, directly across from the Temple entrance, a great maw filled with darkness, like the mouth of an ancient beast. "Do you see? The two of them will need to have a clear path towards the doorway from that location- invisibility spells, perhaps Imoen's natural talent at hiding in the shadows- I do not know how exactly they intend to cross the divide. Still, there are two fire giants guarding the door, and another two patrolling in an outer perimeter. Minsc and Sarevok will surely draw the main two- and we will ensure that the outer watch does not take them unawares."

"And how do we do that without being seen? If we are to be fighting as Minsc and Sarevok do, shouldn't we be at their side so that we might protect each other?" Aerie pointed out, and Jaheira agreed silently, nodding her head. "That's... well, that's where my idea came into play."

"Really?" Jaheira smiled, motioning for her to continue. "Go on..."

Far below the druid and the cleric, Imoen and Greywulf crouched behind a few particularly large boulders on the steep cliffside, peering over at their target. The night was getting further on- soon the guards posted would be at their weakest, the furthest point in their shift. Or at least, that was what they assumed. None of them really quite knew how long those particular fire giants had been guarding the door, or whether the large humanoids slept in the same shifts and periods that humans did. Still, nobody had emerged to relieve them since they showed up, and it wasn't as if they had the time or the supplies to make a longer surveillance effort.

"They torches don't give too much light out there on the western side of the Temple, not with those boulders blocking the way." Imoen observed quietly. "I betcha we could get to those if we're quick. From there, we might be able to sneak past the guards by jumping from pillar to pillar- kinda like when we were back in the Underdark-"

Imoen paused for a moment, then shook her head, continuing on with little sign she had even broke sentence stride, but Greywulf knew what had caused it. The Underdark held bad memories for all of them- but for the two of them in particular. His betrayal of her trust, stealing away her memories inside the illithid city- it had created a rift between them that had never quite healed. It probably never would. Not the time to dwell on past mistakes though. He did enough of that as it stood- he nodded, gesturing for her to continue. "Right, right... I agree, though the fire giants would have to be pretty blind not to notice us actually getting from here to those boulders. Invisibility spell might do the trick, so long as they don't have any spell purge traps set up."

"I thought the same thing." Imoen mused, squinting in the night at the path they would have to travel. "It's too dark to be sure, but I don't *see* any trap giveaways... if I had ta guess, I think we're clear."

"It's a plan, then." Greywulf smiled, beginning to weave the magics that would cloak them from sight. "Now we just wait for the distraction. I'm rather curious to see how they're going to go about it..."

"What, Minsc and tall dark and evil?" Imoen snorted, just before she faded from view. "There are enemies. Kill them now. That should about sum it up..."

The two fire giants guarding the Temple entrance did their absolute best to remain at attention, alert, on guard. This was, after all, the mountain fortress of their chosen deity, or rather future deity. The home of Yaga-Shura himself, the Bhaalspawn fated to become the new Lord of Murder. He was their master, an invulnerable juggernaut of destruction that could not be harmed by sword or magic- he had demonstrated this fact on several occasions, going so far as to enter battle without armor to show how futile the attempts on his life would be. This was his sanctum sanctorum, the heart of his majesty. They were tasked with keeping it safe, a noble task and one which could never be taken lightly. An honor to even be chosen for such a great job of such import. It was just that, well... it was boring as hell.

The last time they had seen any kind of action was when four Bhaalspawn had accidentally stumbled onto their location- a were-rabbit, an xvart, a goblin, and a kobold. They had chased them all through the Marching Mountains, trying to track them down and send their meager taints back to the source for Yaga-Shura... but it had hardly been a challenge. And what fool would dare seek out the very heart of Yaga-Shura? It was folly to even consider assaulting the Temple. An idiotic gesture that no sane man would dare attempt. Perhaps that was why, as two men, large for their kind, walked calmly into the torchlight with blades drawn, that it took the two giants guarding the temple a moment to realize just what was going on.

"Minsc seeks the heart of Yaga-Shura!" the ranger bellowed, raising the Vorpal Sword high. "Let evil beware- justice has come, and it has worn its big boots today!!"

Sarevok sighed as the two giants shouted an alarm as they rushed forward, their axes hefted overhead to cleave them in two. "By the taint of Bhaal, let us simply kill them and be done with it. If I should have to listen to more of your insanity I shall go mad myself."

"Being mad is not such a bad way to be." Minsc offered, right before having to leap aside to avoid an axe separating his upper half from his lower. He spun and hewed downwards, slicing a massive gash into the fire giants' hairy arm, blood spewing from the wound. "Boo tells Minsc he is mad all the time, and to continue being so. Enemies are much more frightened when Minsc is in the throes of the mighty berserker rage, eh?"

The Deathbringer did not bother answering the statement, he was too busy swinging his blade upward to ring against the downward swipe of the mighty battle axe heading to bisect him. The two weapons rang in the night air as metal impacted metal, but the force of the blow was enough to nearly send the warrior to his knees. He felt them buckle for a moment, then roared with effort as he pushed upward, shoving the axe off and swiping forward to cut a notch out of the tree trunk legs that stood before him, the armor plating yielding to the enchanted edge of the Chaos Blade.

The fire giant that had just taken a hit from Sarevok stumbled back inadvertently, growling in anger at the wound inflicted upon him- he reached around to the horn dangling from his belt, raising it to his lips and blowing one long, drawn note. Had this not been anticipated in the first place, Sarevok might've cursed in frustration, knowing that reinforcements were moments away. as it stood, he was only slightly peeved when he charged the man, only to be sent hurtling backwards by an unexpected kick from the same leg he had just wounded. As he rubbed his head, pushing himself back to his feet while the ground shook with each step his opponent took, the giant charged him. As it passed the ranger, Minsc spun in place, catching the back of the charging giant's knee as he ran past the berserker ranger.

Minsc returned to guard with only a split-second to spare, and even then it was too little. The axe came with such force that Minsc was bowled over, knocked aside like a rag doll, bouncing over the ground as the Vorpal Sword clattered to a halt beside a pile of rubble. The fire giant he had injured while passing could no longer support himself with the abrupt cut to his tendons, and could do nothing but scream in horror as Sarevok brought the Sword of Chaos upward into the falling giant's path, impaling his head as blood showered the Deathbringer.

The earth rumbled as the giant bore down upon his opponent- Minsc unslung the twin axes he wielded just in time, crossing them to block the incoming swing, on one knee as he struggled to keep the monstrous humanoid at bay. A roar split the air- both Minsc and his opponent craned their heads to look, and the ranger's heart sunk- two more giants descending the hill they had snuck down from, outer perimeter scouts, the ones they had worked so hard to avoid. Sarevok was already pushing the dead weight off his sword, moving to engage them- but could he possibly stop both of them for long on his own?

As it turned out, he would not have to. The heavens themselves opened and lightning erupted from the skies, reigning down upon one of the giants, relentless in its striking. Atop the mountain, Minsc could make out a slender figure with hands raised as the clouds thundered overhead. Swarming over the hills were a dozen wolves, charging the giants with teeth and fangs bared, eager to rip them open- one giant swatted two away as they came near, the other smashing a third with his axe, fighting through the searing bolts of lightning that continually ravaged him- and then the rest of the horde hit, leaping and tearing with feral rage. Beside them came elementals of earth and air, shambling mounds and living tornadoes that swept into them as well, savaging the scouts that had responded to the guardsmen's call for aid.

The giant pushing Minsc down returned his attention to the one in his sights, at his mercy, intending to finish him before moving to these new threats. As numerous as they were, none of them were true matches for the power of the fire giants of Yaga-Shura- a sickly sound of flesh and meat tearing ripped through his hearing as an intrusion in his chest sent chills through his body. The giant looked down to see a fist composed of earth and rock and stone, covered in blood and gore, withdraw from his chest as he lost feeling and went to the ground, nearly atop Minsc if he had not moved out of the way in time.

The ranger leapt to his feet quickly shifting to join Sarevok's side, hacking down the feeble attempts at defense the last standing giant was making. It kicked, swung with the last ebbs of strength before Sarevok's blade found the femoral artery, and it could no longer sustain itself. It collapsed, five wolves still tearing and chewing flesh. "I think Jaheira and Aerie should decide their own strategy more often." Minsc commented, smiling as he looked up at the source of their cavalry.

"So long as Greywulf and Imoen made it in during the battle, nothing else matters." Sarevok growled, checking the hillside, looking for more signs of enemies- "They had better be inside by now."

"Why is that?" Minsc asked, before closing his mouth and raising his blade to guard position as he saw what Sarevok had seen. A dozen more fire giants emerging from the Temple, wielding an assortment of war hammers, axes, and two-handed blades the size of the men themselves. The ranger grinned broadly as Sarevok lowered his stance, preparing for the inevitable charge to come in seconds. "Ah. Well, as Minsc always says, the bigger they are... the HARDER I HIT!!!"

X X X X X X

Outside, the world rumbled with the sounds of battle and carnage, decimating the land beneath the feet of those who laid swords against each other. Outside, the forces of the deity-to be clashed with intruders from below, fought to protect the sanctuary of the giant Yaga-Shura. Outside, the giants of fire fought with unholy fervor, protecting their false god with all the muster of those who believed in whom they served; those opposing them fought with the same fervor, though their belief was in something far more noble, far more trustworthy. Outside- outside it was damned cooler than the sweltering innards of the rock edifice.

Imoen blinked sweat from her eyes, trying not to cough as she inhaled- or drank, almost- the air around. Fires were lit in braziers that lined every other step in the constant stairwell leading up into the top of the mountain, tunneling further and further inside. Getting inside the temple had been fairly simple once the distraction had begun- Imoen and Greywulf had been behind the rock boulders piled near the side of the temple within moments, an invisibility spell taking care of the moments when they were exposed. Once inside, they'd only needed to stand aside so that the fire giants moving to aid against their companions could pass, then continue forward.

It was an intriguing structure, if straight-forward. It was composed of several platforms with adjoining halls, each one filled with lit coal braziers. These platform were big enough to accommodate a full army, or at least, a dozen fire giants comfortably. Then another flight of stairs, each one as tall as Imoen herself, then another platform. With lit braziers. One each step. And one on each platform. Finding shadows was going to be... difficult. Having said that, those shadows that did exist were always flickering, always moving thanks to the numerous fire sources. A double-edged sword- one that would be tricky to wield, judging by just how many fire giants were guarding this place.

"Good thing we didn't try the frontal assault approach." Greywulf whispered, back flat against a wall inside one of the adjoining rooms while Imoen peered out into the main stairwell path, looking for signs of more guards approaching. Many had passed, heading for the battles outside- still, there were a few stragglers that kept watch at the top of each segment of stair. If not for them, they might well have an easy go of it. "How long do you think it'll take us to get up those stairs? We'll have to boost each other, then grab the one who stayed behind... this could be a problem."

"I don't think the giants are just gonna stand here and let us do it, neither." Imoen sighed, brown knit in concentration as she tried to figure out just how they were going to get around this new set of obstacles. "Gorion never taught you any flying spells, did he? 'Cause those would come in real handy right now."

"No such luck." Greywulf shook his head with a weak grin, then peered outside once more, glancing upward. The ceiling, hollowed out mountain rock, was not quite the smooth, slick rock face they had expected- it seemed that the Temple was built inside an existing cavernous chamber, and the ceiling had been left to its original rocky face. Long jagged stalactites still grew from above, filling the whole ceiling with death from above, should the Temple ever suffer a grievous earthquake. A possibility? No. The giants were big enough to deflect or shrug off many of the falling rocks, while Imoen and Greywulf would almost certainly be killed in the carnage.

"Hey... I got an idea." Imoen smiled, looking up along with Greywulf. "You thinking the same thing as me?"

"Earthquake? It'd never work. Besides, I've only practiced that spell once or twice, and I really don't want to wake up any pissed off earth elementals while we're trying to keep out of sight." Greywulf shook his head with regret. "Too risky right now."

"Close, but not quite. Don't worry, Greywulf. One day you'll be as smart as me." Imoen grinned, only chuckling further as her brother rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. My head'll fall over pretty soon if it gets any bigger. Anyways, I'll need you to cause a little distraction, but I can get past all these stairs and the fire giants too."

"Fair enough. I assume you're looking at the ceiling- what are you-" Greywulf cut off mid sentence as he saw Imoen slip her hands into her pack, removing two gauntlets with clawed extensions jutting out from them. "You're crazy, you know that? For one, you're not nearly strong enough to stay up there for as long as you'd need to in order to get all the way to the end of the stairway. For two, how do you think you're getting up there?"

"Meh." Imoen shrugged, slipping the gauntlets on and tightening the straps as she flexed her fingertips. "One spell ought to do it. But since I can't really cast too well wearing these, you'll have to cast it, then cast whatever spell you think will work best for a distraction."

"Wait a sec-" Greywulf protested, knowing it would do him little good. Once Imoen got her mind fixed on a plan, as ridiculous as it may have sounded, there was no turning back. "What spell?"

"Strength, I think." Imoen frowned, digging through her mind. "Isn't that the one that strengthens everyone in a certain radius? Meh, I can never remember. Either way, I get the strength to hold on up there, and you get the strength to toss me."

He stared at her for a few moments while that thought sunk in. He winced, imagining just how many things could and probably would go wrong with this idea... he exhaled with exasperation, holding out his hands in surrender. "Okay, so I give us both the strength of Minsc, give or take a few men. I toss you... you catch on to the ceiling with those little toys of yours, and you go hand over hand above the fire giants' heads, thereby, avoiding not only the stairs, but the guards, and then... then what? We don't even know what else is at the top of those stairs. And how am I supposed to follow? And don't you think the giants are going to notice a flying girl hitting the ceiling?"

"Well sheesh, look who's mister negative all of a sudden." Imoen sniffed, taking mock offense. "Y'don't see me questioning yer crazy plans whenever you explain them. But if it'll make ya feel better, yer not supposed to follow me. We both know that it'll be easier for me to find this thing alone, and once I get it, you know this whole place is going to collapse around us or something like that. It's just how old temples and ruins work. You'll be waiting here so that you can surprise any pursuing giants, get 'em off balance while I get out, you right behind me. It's perfect! Oh, and that whole bit about them not seeing me? Didn't I mention you causing a distraction before? Pretty sure I did. Jus' get behind one of them braziers- they won't be able to see the spell flash from there, and then you can toss me when they're busy."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. And before you ask, no I can't think of anything better." Greywulf scowled, nodding in weary acceptance. He looked out, judging the distance from them to the nearest cover behind one of the blazing fire pans, and where they'd have to be to avoid being spotted by the guards. "Why do I think I'm going to regret this?"

Two spell flashes and both of them were embodied with the power of ten men- Greywulf peeked over the top of the brazier, through the fire and flames- the guards were still, unmoving. They hadn't been noticed yet. Now, for a distraction- what to use? Even something as simple as a lightning bolt hitting the wall might do the trick, but it would almost certainly draw attention to the location of where said lightning bolt came from. Same with most projectile spells... summonings? The magical pods of energy would be a dead giveaway that someone was inside the temple that shouldn't be... once again, a poor end result. An idea came in a flash of insight- Greywulf smiled. He began the words to a spell, the power of a Dominate forming in his mind as he reached out through the ether to the mind of one of the two giants watching- a battle for control ensued, but with no warning of any kind, the fire giant was easily controlled. Still, the giant would remember anything he did while under the influence of Greywulf's power. He couldn't do anything too drastic or their hand would be played out...

Imoen watched with a hint of nervousness as one of the giants stumbled for a half-second, then stood straight again. He turned to the second giant, also guarding the stairwell, and said something unintelligible from her distance out- the second one grumbled, but waved him on. The one under Greywulf's mind control strode back up the stairs, leaving them with a newly opened field of view that nobody was watching- Greywulf blinked once, then twice, finally shaking it off as the giant walking up the stairs with his back turned slowed, doing the same.

"What did you-" Imoen began before Greywulf grabbed her by the collar and the back of her right thigh, rearing back with all the power that his magic had provided.

"Told him he had to go take a piss- he'll be back in a second. Hold on!"

X X X X X X

Hell. That's what war was, after all. A mass of fire and death, with the battlefield nothing less than a graveyard where men and women fell, equally devastated, equally massacred. The ground took no sides- it equally accepted the blood of those both righteous and those wicked. Just as it accepted the blood of those who had so recently destroyed Saradush- it accepted the blood of those who sought to avenge it. The blood of the Radiant Heart.

Sir Ryan spun his blade in a wide arc, cutting down another soldier that got too near, then tossed his whole body to the side to avoid a sweeping hammer blow from a fire giant. The giant was wounded, arrows lodged all over his legs and a few in his chest, but they were annoyances, nothing more. Only a shot to the eye or into the mouth would be enough to bring such a monstrosity down- and with the arrival of Yaga-Shura and his kinsmen, the battle had gone for the worse.

Sir Ryan climbed to his feet, hefting his sword with both hands. His shield had been shattered long ago upon the blow of an axe wielded by one of the giants- it had saved his life, and now lay on the field a twisted shard of metal. He dodged a pair of warriors dueling one knight, weaved back and forth around another fire giant corpse, then leapt off the ground to slice past the giant who had nearly killed him, cutting another gouge into the exposed leg. The giant howled, staggering back with the wound, giving Sir Ryan a brief moment to come around again, this time slicing directly behind the knee. The giant came to the ground with an earth-shattering thud, while Trawl jumped to hold on to the back of the humanoid's plate mail with one hand, and sweep his blade across the front of the fire giant's neck with the other, cutting his throat as blood showered the field below.

The beast collapsed and Sir Ryan rolled off the man's back to one knee, panting in exhaustion as he surveyed the field of battle... too much death. Too many lives lost in this one battle- all around, his knights were slowly losing the battle, slowly giving way to the full might of the armies of Yaga-Shura. They had slain six of the giants who had come to fight originally, but Yaga-Shura still stood, and more giants were standing at the top of the hill, raining arrows down upon them along with the spells of the mages. An explosion of fire rocked the site where three knights were hacking away at a fire giant- all three warriors went flying, screams abruptly cutting off, while the giant winced, then stood tall, ignoring the heat as he roared in victory.

Anguish filled the paladin's heart, looking at the battlefield- there was no hope of victory now. The Radiant Heart forces were scattered over the battlefield, unable to come together in any kind of defensive formation. Their mages were long dead, and their knights had no time or quarter to target the enemies that rained spellfire atop them. They had underestimated the size of the army that Yaga-Shura wielded at his command- a mistake they would not have made had their numbers not been stretched so thin. Skirmishes here and there, pushing the Order to its limits- it could not be a coincidence. It could not be. The Bhaalspawn- they were behind this.

The thought gave Sir Ryan new strength, strength enough for one final dash. The battle was lost, but their target, the fire giant himself, the Bhaalspawn commander- right there. He pushed himself up once more and charged. An arm up to deflect a sweeping blow, ricocheting off his gauntlet, leaving his arm nearly numb from the impact. An arrow headed his way- it brushed the hair coming off his helm as he ducked just beneath it. Yaga-Shura turned, saw his charge and laughed the laugh of madness, of one whose power had stripped them of sense and reason. Sir Ryan's face contorted in effort as he hurled himself forward with all his might, shoving his blade into the giant's leg in an overhand thrust, then yanking himself upward to grab hold of an arrow ticking from the giant's stomach. Yaga-Shura howled in fury, reaching down to grab the man, but Sir Ryan yanked the blade from the leg and swept over while dangling off the ground to slice off one of the fingers reaching for his body.

The heat of bloodlust was on him- he knew this was the end. No turning back now- but if the kill could be made, if this monster could be brought down- it would all be worth it. Sir Ryan felt his arm quake, the adrenaline providing only so much strength- he reached up and jammed the sword into Yaga-Shura's chest, feeling the blade begin to cut downwards with his weight, only to catch on the rib cage, jolting him enough to let go of the handle and fall to the ground. He collapsed, barely able to look up to see what he had done- and his eyes went wide in despair and shock. Silence filled his hearing, the noise of the battlefield gone as he watched Yaga-Shura look at the blade impaling him, then reach out with his wounded hand, the finger he had cut off regrowing, muscle and flesh forming around the new extremity. The sword was pulled out with a sickly sound, and it clattered to the ground beside Sir Ryan as Yaga-Shura leaned down, grabbing the paladin with both hands. Sir Ryan tried to struggle, but his strength had left him along with all hope.

The Bhaalspawn fixed eyes with the paladin for a moment... only for a moment. Then, as his armor began collapsing in the iron grip of the giant, his body following suit, Sir Ryan Trawl felt the darkness of oblivion claim him.

X X X X X X

Interesting, really. To find such power in a place as this was not... unreasonable, per se. But to find one who would not only wield the power of the gods but then put herself in such a foolish position, struck down by the one she had raised... surely it could not have been unforeseen. Such power and wisdom, yet tempered by the foolishness of one who did not completely grasp the might she wielded. Were Nyalee possessed with the same foresight and wisdom that she herself had, they might've been rivals. It might have been Nyalee in position to claim the Throne of Bhaal for herself.

But it was not to be... the old priestess was little more than a shell of her former self- her youthful exterior a mockery, a falsehood maintained by the ritual that had removed her heart. That ritual... such an interesting gambit. To gain immortality at the expense of providing your foes with a weakness to exploit and strike at- was it worth it? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Yaga-Shura had used the ritual, but in its completion, the weakness was almost as prevalent. To return the heart without the ritual rejoining, the bond would kill him. And yet, neither the heart nor the giant could be harmed.

For Nyalee, in her imperfect version of the ritual, it made it nearly impossible to kill her- and yet, if she moved from these woods, left her heart to burn alone, it would eventually go out, leaving her a withered husk of a woman, paralyzed with the stolen years of her life coming to haunt her until the heart was ignited once again. But the rejoining could never be accomplished without the blood of a god. Not a Bhaalspawn's blood, no. The blood... of a god.

Nyalee was busy preparing a stew of some kind- a foul, murky mixture that was probably part human, part animal. She wondered if Nyalee knew that her life was about to end. When was the last time that thought had crossed her mind? After all, when one is immortal for so many years, does one even remember what it feels like to be afraid for one's life? She supposed that she would have to ask herself that same question in the end... but for now, Nyalee would know the answer. She stood from her vantage point, letting her powers levitate her from atop the forest down to Nyalee's grove, settling in the ruins with a clack of her heels upon the stone.

Nyalee turned with a whirl, eyes narrowing as she spied the darkened figure approach, remaining silent except for the footsteps. "Who intrudes upon my sanctuary?"

As she came into the light, Nyalee's eyes widened, then she unhooded herself, letting her posture relax ever so slightly. "You... I had never thought to see you again. But I see that I should have known far better, yes?"

She did not answer, only glanced down at the green flame surrounding the old arches of the ruins. Nyalee's small hint of relaxation began to disappear as the figure strode to the flame, reaching out with one hand to the flame-

"What are you doing?" Nyalee shouted, running towards the flame- a wave of dark magics sent the witch tumbling head over heels, even as the heart burning within floated into the figure's grasp. Nyalee's gaze was fixed on the heart- a flash of a blade and the left hand of the one holding it dripped with blood. The heart changed hands- and suddenly Nyalee understood. "The blood of a god...?!"

Lightning reigned down and struck Nyalee- her eyes and mouth erupted with power, wind encircling the witch as her robes flapped open, a hole crumbling in her chest as the heart began to spin in mid-air, levitating while arcs of lightning jumped between the heart and the cavity it had resided within for so long- and with a final thunderclap, the heart returned to its former resting place.

Nyalee collapsed to the ground, her body smoking, mouth open as she gasped for breath. She managed to roll over, her hands twitching as she curled up, looking up pitifully as her visitor walked to stand over her. "W... why?!"

"You know much of the Bhaalspawn. It is by your word that Yaga-Shura will die." the figure finally spoke. "But it is what you know of me... that is what makes you a threat. And I will not abide any interference to my ascension."

A large, jagged spear materialized in the woman's hand, and Nyalee could do nothing as it was raised. "No! No!! Amelyssan....!"

The spear came down with a spurt of blood, and as the light dimmed in Nyalee's eyes, Amelyssan jerked it out, then smiled, wiping the small flecks of blood from her face. The power of the gods was intoxicating... but it was time to return it to the source. She had already lost the taint of Gromnir to the other Bhaalspawn because she had been using the god-power to escape Gromnir's prison at the time. It would not do to let Yaga-Shura die while the pathway to the Throne was cut off. Time to become simple, helpful Mellissan again... and watch as the wards of Gorion fought tooth and nail to make her the new Goddess of Murder.


	20. Part 1: Broken Promises

If there was one thing that reporters and criers and couriers all asked her when given the chance to talk with Imoen the archmage, master of magic herself, it was, "How do you do it? How can you be so amazing at everything you do, including both sorcery and stealth? Surely you must be the greatest in either realm that had ever existed, yes?"

Okay, perhaps she had never been asked that question. And perhaps she had never been approached by scribes or their ilk to record the tales of her exploits, but she should have been, at least in her opinion. And maybe she wasn't really the best mage or thief out there- Greywulf himself would give her a run for that first title, not counting those other famous guys like Khelben Blackstaff and Elminster- bunch of old fuddy-duddies that they were. But she was still pretty darn good, if she did say so herself. And if someone ever did ask how she was able to be quite so amazing at sneaking around and avoiding traps and the like, she'd tell them one simple thing... "Watch the ceiling."

Imoen resisted the urge to snort as she carefully used her clawed gauntlets to dig into the rocky ceiling, biting her lip as a trickle of pebbles and rock fell to the ground, behind a pair of fire giants heading down the hall she was traversing, hoping that neither would hear the sedimentary rain... nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief and continued her upside-down crawl, using her rather considerable leg strength to hold herself to pieces of jagged rock protruding from the ceiling while her hands kept firm holds in case she slipped. And of course, the whole time she was up here, she got to see the wonderful traps and security measures that this Temple had in store for anyone who was, say, not as awesome as her.

Not that there weren't plenty of traps based on the floor of most ancient temples and the like... there were. The ever-reliable blow darts crisscrossing a narrow hall, or maybe the good old fashioned collapsing floor into a pit of spiky doom. Both were classics... and both were absolutely predictable, detectable, and avoidable. The ceiling though... that's where the nasty stuff was located. She grunted a bit as she considered how to move onto the next bit of rock, crossing over another set of stairs- and she smiled as she saw the nearly invisible wires running along the rocky ceiling to the mechanism concealed within a niche she was climbing over right now. Two giant scythes that would slice whoever triggered the trap below neatly in two. That was trap number... six? Seven? She was beginning to lose count- this climbing exercise wasn't exactly a walk in the park, after all.

First had been some fairly standard collapsing sections- step on the wrong tile below and about 200 pounds of rock would come falling down on your head. Survivable with enough acrobatic skill, but loud enough to bring the guardsmen running and a major headache all around. She rolled her eyes at her own pun and kept moving, considering the other snares she'd seen atop the ceiling. The mounted crossbows had been an interesting touch- usually they were on ground level- as were the chittering shadow creatures caged within a thin veil of magic that would undoubtedly break if someone below took a wrong step. Her favorite though, had definitely been the giant round boulder ready to lead down the stairway and crush anything in its path.

But that had been at least a few dozen hallways back, and a couple hundred stairs. In the end, as abnormal and unfeasible as her plan might have sounded, it was the only smart option. Hanging upside down, crawling along the top of the ceiling, she'd spotted at least two or three spell purge traps on the floor that would have given her away had she been using an invisibility spell to try and mask her movements from the fire giants patrolling the Temple, several guards still awaiting the results of the war that Sarevok and Minsc were raging outside. She spared a brief moment to worry for Minsc's safety, then pushed the thought aside and kept moving. The strength Greywulf had gifted her with via magic would not last forever, and quite frankly, she didn't really know where this heart was. She supposed it would be displayed somewhere prominent rather than kept under lock and key in some hidden niche- if only because if Yaga-Shura was the type of giant who would flaunt his invincibility by going into battle without armor, he probably was also the type to keep it somewhere as a display of how he had cheated death itself.

And then, as she glanced down once again, Imoen let herself grin. The enormous stairway that had erupted upwards into the mountain from the entrance culminated in one giant archway, flattening below to brick laid floor and flanked by fire giants garbed in heavy armor and wielding weapons adorned in skulls and claws at the hilt and handles. Honor guards if she was a master thief- and she was- which meant she was getting close. The archway was fifty feet tall, well high enough for her to slip underneath without alerting the guards to her presence, assuming they didn't look up, of course. Imoen allowed herself to relax for a moment, figuratively at least, and examine the archway. There was a carved likeness of Yaga-Shura's face at the peak of it, a giant bearded face with a horned helmet punching out a foot from the otherwise smooth surface of the stone; that would work perfect for a handhold of sorts. Still, dropping down to hang from that would be risky- it would have to be a momentary flash to make certain that nobody in the next room spotted her sudden appearance.

That left only one option, of course. Imoen inhaled sharply, closing her eyes as she waited for her heart to calm slightly, her breathing to quiet- and she went into action. Digging her gauntlets into the ceiling above, she released the hold she'd been maintaining between her legs and let her momentum carry forward, swinging towards the archway- she released with her gauntlets and grasped onto the cut-stone as a handhold, her body clenched tightly around that single point in the archway. That was the easy part... the honor guards below hadn't looked up, hadn't sounded the alarm. This next part would be much trickier. First things first- a touch of reconnaissance. Imoen grunted quietly as she began using her feet to brace against the stone, pulling herself upwards until she was perching precariously atop the carving itself, her leather-soled boots hell when marching across rocky ground, but giving her the tactile sense necessary for such infiltration attempts. Finally, the hard part. Imoen's breath caught as she prepared to make her move- she was very well aware that if this little maneuver failed, if she slipped or if the carving weren't strong enough, she would not only be discovered but would probably fall fifty feet head-first onto the stone below, splattering her brain all over the ground.

Imoen silently leapt, twisting in midair to go downwards head first. As she began the stomach-wrenching drop, she snapped her legs together, folding at the knees as tightly as she could muster the moment she felt contact. And in less than a second, Imoen found herself breathlessly hanging upside down from the peak of the archway, her legs entwined with the horns of the carved stone helmet. She had not tested her acrobatics and physical resolve in this manner for some time- sweat was pouring from her face and her legs were already beginning to burn from the exertion. But her current position let her look just underneath the arch and sight in on what was in this next room- and what she saw made it all worthwhile. It was, quite literally, Yaga-Shura's Throne Room. There stood an enormous throne in the center, flanked by braziers on both sides. Ragged banners and bloodied weaponry lined the rock walls, and the waves of heat could be seen rising from the floor itself. Sitting before the throne was a circular crack in the rock floor, with lava bubbling through and splattering sizzling bits of magma around the floor encircling it. Imoen felt her eyes sting as sweat ran into them, but she forced the annoyance away as she tried to figure out where her objective might be kept- of course. She pushed away the dizziness brought on from the extreme heat and the blood rushing to her head, and focused upon the magma- and with a bit of squinting, she could see it.

Glowing gently, beating strongly with each passing second, a heart nearly the size of her entire pack floated a few feet above the magma, bathed in constant licks of flame that rose from the molten rock. No guards inside the Throne Room- either this fire giant was more egotistical than she had thought, or he was just stupid. Imoen grinned, knowing that all that stood between her and success was a few feet- and that was precisely when everything went terribly, horribly wrong. The stone carving she'd been hanging from separated with a loud crack, splitting the horns from the base of the carved helmet; Imoen's body jolted with the sudden motion, the girl suddenly dropped into free fall once again. Imoen could not keep herself from crying out with the sudden fall, but an escape came from the unlikeliest of places- the guardsmen below.

They were surprisingly quick and well trained- before she'd had time to fall completely the guards had whirled toward the origin of the sound, swinging their axes to guard position- and putting the shafts of their weapons within reach of the hurtling thief. Imoen reached out with one hand, desperately seeking purchase- the shaft was too far away, and her hand slid off as she rotated around it, her momentum carrying her in an arc that sent her flying into the room feet first. Still, she had slowed her fall enough to keep it from being lethal, and her new orientation had kept it from being her skull that was cracked upon impact, but the sudden snap of her leg giving way as she hit forced a pained scream from her mouth as she tumbled across the floor, coming to a stop beside the pit of magma, the heat turning her skin red as she lay beside it, blurred vision trying to focus on the heart floating only a few paces away.

Imoen reflected with ill humor the irony of it all ending this way; the huge footfalls of the giants shook the ground as they crossed the meager distance between them... to falter like this, so close to her target, it felt wrong. "How'd this little piece of spit make it so far in?!" one of the giants boomed with rage, kicking her over roughly, Imoen moaning in pain at the rough treatment, her only consolation that the force of the blow had moved her a touch further away from the magma pit.

"Bah! It matters little- she's meat now!" the other sneered, his eyes flashing with hatred as he leaned over, grabbing Imoen with one hand, beginning to pick her up- a bolt of lightning flashed over their heads, striking the archway and sending bits and pieces crumbling to the ground. Once again, their reaction time was amazing- Imoen hit the ground again, this time from a much lower distance, but coughing with the impact as the two guards spun to see what had struck out at them. Imoen squinted to see another bolt of lightning strike the wall beside them, bouncing back and forth for a moment before dissipating- a fireball followed, the waves of heat washing over the guardsmen as they cautiously moved up, leaving the incapacitated girl alone as they faced this new threat.

It didn't take long for her to figure out what was happening, the fireball made it fairly obvious. It wasn't designed to harm the fire giants, whose resistance to flame made it little more than a joke. Greywulf had heard her scream and knew she was in trouble, and was doing the only thing he could muster- trying to distract them and give her some kind of chance to save herself. Except that it couldn't last long- he would never be able to climb the massive stairs to get to where they were, and every set of guards along the stairs would be converging on his position in moments- he was simply flinging spells up the stairway, trusting that the sight would be enough to draw the attention of whatever had found her.

So far it had worked- Imoen reached into her pack, drawing a Potion of Heal from within and downing it as quickly as she dared- the bluish liquid felt cold and tasted bitter in her throat, but she could feel the bones in her leg beginning to knit themselves together, the torn muscle healing. It wasn't perfect, but it was the only chance she'd get. One more potion- a greenish brew to shield her from the elements. Her hands went numb as the effects took hold, and she barely felt a thing as she pushed herself to her feet, limping with all her might towards the magma pit. Another shout from behind her- maybe the guards had seen her renewed efforts, or maybe Greywulf had engaged one of the guards. It didn't really matter at the moment. All that mattered was getting the heart before her, and as she thrust her hands into the flame, taking hold of the beating organ, she yanked it from the flame and immediately lost her footing as the entire Throne Room began shaking, the magma pit bubbling hotter and hotter, flames shooting from the floor and striking the ceiling itself. If that hadn't gotten the attention of the Honor Guard, nothing would. Just as she got to her feet again, preparing to turn and somehow avoid the guards, drop down a hundred stairs as tall as her and avoid the numerous traps she'd seen on the way up all while limping, a roar emerged from the flames, and out stalked a humanoid wreathed in blue and orange flame, eyes a dark red in the middle of the mass. It held out a fist, clenched in rage. _"Who steals from Imix, Prince of Fire?!"_

Imoen heard the gasps of surprise from the Honor Guard behind her, the giants even dwarfed in size by the avatar of the Evil Elemental Prince of Fire. Somehow Yaga-Shura had convinced it, or at least some portion of its essence, to safeguard his heart. And without waiting another moment, Imoen spun on her heel and bolted as fast as she could muster, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out and fearing that, at the last, she might have bitten off slightly more than she could chew with this particular burglary.

X X X X X X

The merry laughter between the two old friends lilted gently through the stone halls of the Keep, the only listeners being the two guardsmen keeping watch over the quarters given to guests of the De'Arnise Keep. Inside, Nalia sat across from Anomen in one of the enormous red plush chairs that every guest room was fitted with- no fewer than five along with a table of dining size in such case that her guests needed to entertain guests of their own. The splendor of the De'Arnise Halls had increased since Anomen's first visit to the Keep, that much was clear to the squire as he finished his tale of his trip into the Planar Sphere in the company of Imoen and Greywulf's party. " 'Thank you ever so much for clearing the path for me!' " Anomen boomed in as malevolent a voice as he could muster, raising his hands and waggling his fingers as though preparing to cast some sort of wicked spellcraft. "T'was all I could do not to laugh at the Cowled fiend and his apprentice right then, m'lady! Surely they saw no ill choice in attacking those who had found the strength to push farther into the magical sphere than they could have ever done."

Nalia covered her mouth as her body shook with the chortles and tales shared between them. She shook her head at the last as they died away, a smile firmly placed upon her lips. "Such fools- I am not surprised they thought little of their own safety. The Cowled Wizards are trained to believe in their own infallibility- surely nobody that was not part of their order had a chance to stand up to them! It sounds as though you have done very well for yourself in the time since we last traveled together. My only regret is that we had to parts ways under such... unfortunate circumstances."

"I thank you for your thoughts, and share your sentiments, truly." Anomen smiled, stroking his beard as he considered their past. After he and the Bhaalspawn had parted company, he had taken some time doing jobs as a full-fledged knight, hoping to raise his stature and visibility in the eyes of the Order while there were no tasks given to him by the Prelate, hopefully to rectify that very situation. Nalia had still been rebuilding and needed brave men and women to aid her lands- it had been a perfect match for the both of them, and their similar noble roots had lent them a stronger bond than others might have forged. Their friendship had been real and easy, until he had received word while under her employ that his father had been slain by Saerk.

"I was pleased to hear that my messengers reached Greywulf's company before you did something... well, before you did something you and I would both have been saddened by." Nalia remarked gently, Anomen not quite meeting her eyes as they spoke, their tones sobering as the thoughts of what he had nearly done came to mind. "I suppose it should make me happy to learn that your only penalty lay in a small drop in title, but I cannot help but feel as though you were cheated by the Order? How were you supposed to have reacted to the news of your father's murderer?"

"I am glad to know you have my back in these matters, but I fear that it is simply the standards to which I have devoted myself to, and must be held accountable for." Anomen inhaled sharply, his tone taking on a determination and grit seen within him far more recently than in past days. "But enough of such melancholy. Tell me more of what you've done with your own time since we parted ways, m'lady. Surely time did not simply halt when I left your employ? If my memory does not fail me, when last I was here you were embroiled in some politicking with the nobles of Athkatla- who was it now, a man by the name of Pimlico, was it?"

"That was the name, yes, though I fear my work with him has led to something of a grisly end." Nalia shook her head in disappointment. "He was something of a collector of books, both rare and powerful, and he had recently been after a certain tome buried in the Athkatla cemetery. He had hired a band of mercenaries led by a dwarf to reach the tome for him, but somewhere along the way he was killed. Whether it was through infighting or simple bad luck... no, I know it was not simple infighting, but I shall not burden you with my theories and paranoia about Athkatla's dealings. They are a dark enough burden on my soul, and I should not wish to push it to you as well."

"Ah, but what good should a friend be if not to share the load?" Anomen asked with a shrug. "What bothers you so?"

Nalia paused a moment, as if to consider whether she really wished to continue or not, then sighed and nodded. "Being of noble birth and coming to terms with my role as a leader of men... it makes one's priorities shift. You know this better than most. It brings clarity- even if that clarity is not something pretty. I found myself in the unenviable situation of discovering truths about the Athkatla power structure not long ago, and it has made my work take on a priority higher than I ever could have imagined."

"And what work is that?" Anomen frowned, leaning forward, intrigued by her cryptic manner. "You have done an admirable job of taming this place after all the trouble that has befallen it, Firkraag and the Roenalls to name the greatest of which."

"Power." Nalia stated abruptly, her eyes flashing and narrow as her tone grew dark. "I have pushed myself and my resources to accumulate the power necessary to defend this place from another one such as Firkraag, and I have done so, but it has not been enough. Not nearly enough, now that I know the truth. Were I simply concerned with defending myself and my lands, then I could have settled some time ago with my skills as a mage and the enlarged army I have built. But there is a dark presence in the city that has corrupted every level of its structure, and it knows that I have uncovered its secrets. Tell me, have you ever heard of The Twisted Rune?"

"No... the name does not seem familiar." Anomen mused after thinking for a time. "Should I have?"

"It is an organization of powerful beings that has made Athkatla its stronghold. Their business is power- political, magical, strength of arms, anything and everything they can muster to bolster themselves. It is my belief that at least one of the members of the Council of Six is also a member of the Twisted Rune. Every member is a master of combat and power in their own right- and since the collapse of the Cowled Wizards, their power has expanded tenfold."

"What do you mean?" Anomen shook his head, trying but failing to understand. "The Council of Six rule over them, or at least, they are said to command the wizards in public."

"Mere posturing." Nalia brooded, the subject matter weighing heavily upon her. "Do you not see, Sir Anomen? The balance of power in Amn has always been one too precarious to maintain itself for long. The Cowled Wizards were always their own separate power base, as were the Shadow Thieves, and the Council of Six, even your own Order of the Radiant Heart. Arguably the most powerful four groups of the city and none of them truly were willing to answer to anyone but themselves. And behind the scenes, the Twisted Rune, gathering power and magic to themselves with each downfall and step back that the rest of the city takes. The Cowled ones are barely a force to be reckoned with any longer, and the Shadow Thieves have never fully recovered from the guild war. The power vacuum had to go somewhere, and all my research points to them."

"Just what research was this?" Anomen frowned again. "Something tells me you did not come by this information simply by accident. The people you are talking about are not the type to spend their time amidst bars, drinking their secrets into the free air."

"Nor am I the type to go and listen for those secrets to be released a glass at a time." Nalia replied with a hint of pride. "As I said, I have been occupied with building my own power in recent months- and what better opportunity to do so when the Cowled Wizards were overthrown by Jon Irenicus? I sent my agents, and in the end, I traveled myself under shadow of darkness to recover their artifacts and scrolls, the secrets they kept locked away in their outposts and vaults, no longer guarded as fiercely with their numbers so diminished. I had two vaults located, but by the time I had arrived, the wizards tasked with guarding them had been slain, and their secrets plundered."

"The Twisted Rune... they acted before you could do so and stole the secrets for themselves. And you were curious as to who had acted your very plans out in front of you, and thus began your investigation." Anomen concluded, before pausing with a frown. "You said they were guarded yet? How had you planned to go about finding your way inside? Surely you would not have been so callous as to murder them for the knowledge buried within?"

Nalia stared at Anomen for a moment, then laughed again, shaking her head. "Come now, Sir Delryn, surely you know me better than that? Not that I would have considered it murder- the Cowled ones were criminals and tyrants of the highest order to begin with- cleansing their scum from Athkatla was the only things positive accomplished by that madman Irenicus' killing spree. But I would have found a different solution, 'tis true. It matters little now, since there was nothing to be had; only the slightest scraps of evidence for me to follow. It led me to where I stand now, knowing too much to be left unscathed by this organization."

"It would seem you are in something of a difficult situation." Anomen offered, unsure of how to proceed. "If these men and women have as much power as you claim, it would be difficult to find a place to bring this information to that would not invite their attention."

"Indeed- it is why I have kept this to myself for as long as I have." Nalia sighed, folding her hands over her robes as she shook her head. "It is also why I cannot hope to accompany you and your allies on this quest of yours, no matter how much I might wish to aid you. I cannot simply leave my lands in the hands of those inferior to me in power- only I have the slightest chance of defending this place from her enemies."

"I- what?" Anomen frowned, blinking. "I admit that I had considered offering you a place among us as we traveled, but I would not dare to have asked. Did Solaufein and Reynald put the question to you?"

"You mean they had not consulted you before inviting me on this 'adventure'?" Nalia asked in surprise before throwing her head back and laughing lightly again, smiling with a shake of the head as it died away. "I had simply assumed that it was the primary reason for coming to my lands."

"No, I believe that my imminent death was more the cause." Anomen shook his head, smiling wryly. "I must admit, I find myself slightly embarrassed. I shall have to speak with Solaufein and Reynald about their manner in my absence. One does not simply ask the Lady of an Estate to abandon her charges on some quest that she has no personal stake in."

"No, but believe me when I say I was most flattered by the invitation." Nalia's lips quirked at the edges. "Reynald seemed rather taken with the idea, and I cannot help but agree that you need someone with a magical touch on your journeys. While I have no doubt that you three are most capable of fighting off any physical threat, it would be most unfortunate if an ethereal creature brought you low with nobody of my talents accompanying you."

"Believe me when I say that the thought has crossed my mind, especially in light of my latest injury." Anomen admitted. "Surely the halls of Watcher's Keep will not be filled with simple traps and monsters that any good swordsmen could fight his way through-"

"Watcher's Keep?! That is where you are headed?" Nalia asked abruptly, taken by surprise. "I had not been told exactly where you were traveling..."

"Yes, we go to the Tower of Helm to seal the final level off once again." Anomen informed her solemnly, a hint of pride at the import of the task leaking into his voice, despite knowing better. Still, it really *was* an impressive task, and there was no harm in showing off a little, especially with how impressed Nalia seemed to be by the name-dropping.

"Interesting. I have heard tales of Watcher's Keep, though I know very little fact to differentiate from the fictions surrounding it. I don't suppose you would care to tell me of this place before I retire for the night?" Nalia asked, her composure fully recovered as she sat politely.

While Anomen spoke of the legends surrounding the fortress, the monsters and treasures within, Nalia listened carefully, taking in every piece of information as carefully as she could. And long after she had left the squire's room for the night and returned to her own quarters, she had her servants bring every tome from her library that concerned Helm's Tower to her. And for hours after, long after everyone else in the Keep had gone to bed, Nalia remained at her desk, studying them very, very, carefully, a hint of a smile crossing her features... a plan forming in her mind.

X X X X X X

A cloud of dust billowed up around Minsc's feet as he felt himself being pushed back on the soles of his boots, the sheer crushing momentum and force of the blows that the fire giant he was fighting driving him back with each successive hit. The Vorpal Sword actually had nicks and gouges in its edge- an almost impossibility for Githyanki craftsmanship- from the number of times Minsc had raised it to defend himself from sheer annihilation from the foes that surrounded him. And still he kept fighting. The ranger narrowed his eyes, if only to avoid more sweat running from his glistening forehead into his eyes, and heaved back on the sword with all his not inconsiderable strength- and the only reaction was a slight disengagement from the sword lock, letting Minsc scramble out of the way before his opponent's second swing from the war axe he carried separated his top half from his bottom.

The ranger righted himself in a moment, trying to find a way out, or some kind of tactical advantage, but that was and never had been his strength. He was made for straight up battle, built for oppressive one on one combat. It was where he, and incidentally, his new companion Sarevok, thrived. And for the majority of this battle, thrive he had. Over ten fire giants lay dead so far, three from his hand, four from Sarevok, and another three from the combined spells and summons that Aerie had sent upon them. Jaheira was still uncharacteristically absent, but he had little time to worry about that- he was too busy fighting for his life. For all his strength and power, the ranger had nearly reached the end of his endurance. For every giant they felled, another two or three emerged from the temple.

A second giant roared and charged him, moving to send Minsc flying with a giant sandaled foot, intending to punt him into the boulders behind the ranger. If the blow connected, it would probably crush the armor Minsc wore as well as the man inside, before breaking several dozen bones upon impact with the rocks. There was just enough time to spin out of the way, trying a desperate downward cut with the Vorpal Sword- and his fading strength only carved a notch out of the giant hairy leg rather than severing the foot entirely. Minsc shuffled back, placing both giants he was fighting in front of him, keeping his flank clear- Minsc felt the urge to let his control slip to a berserker rage once more, and once more he pushed it away. He couldn't afford to lose control- not with Aerie still on the battlefield, still being hunted by their opponents.

If she needed him, he had to be able to hear her, had to be able to respond and so he kept fighting, feeling his strength ebbing away, the weight of inevitability crushing down upon them. If Greywulf and Imoen did not return soon, all hope would be lost. They would die, and as Minsc blocked another downward slice, batting the attack to the side and exposing the giant's chest with his hands and weapon down at his side, Minsc considered that a death in a battle as grand as this one... that might not be so bad after all. With a renewed roar of vigor, he leapt as high as he could manage and sliced into the giant's chest, dropping below the torrent of blood coming from the dying humanoid's chest.

Sarevok spared a glance for the ranger's energetic strike, sending another of their massive opponents to the ground. Impressive- he had rather thought Minsc at the end of his rope, so to speak. The battle had taken a turn for the worse, particularly once the giants had realized how much of an effect Aerie's spells were having upon their ranks. Two giants had slipped past Sarevok and Minsc and were currently stalking the hills, chasing Aerie over boulder and mountain in an attempt to strike her down- she was somehow staying ahead of their efforts, mostly through a judicious use of concealment magics, such as Mirror Images and Mislead spells. She'd cropped up here and there at times, lending magical aid whenever possible, but the moment she reappeared, the hunt was on once again. The druid had not appeared as of yet- Sarevok could only assume that she was part of some kind of plan that he was not privy to- and he hated, absolutely hated relying on the plans of others. Far better to be in absolute control of his own destiny, to know the ins and outs of every scheme he was embroiled in- only then could he make certain that there was nothing left to chance, that he would come out on top.

_Right. Because that worked out so very well for you last time, didn't it?_ The mocking tones of Greywulf in his head made Sarevok growl as he swung the Sword of Chaos in a wide arc, causing his opponent to back off several yards, the sheer intensity of the Deathbringer giving the giant pause when considering how to destroy this annoyance. His time spent with Greywulf had been more informative than he had thought, and it had given him valuable insight in how to turn Greywulf into the ruler that he had been- a thought that still gave him a touch of nausea, truth be told- but so much time spent in his brother's company was always going to rub off on him as well. Moments like this, where once he would allow himself to exult in his own infallibility, in the knowledge that everything was going according to plan, or that his foes were nothing more than fodder to be wiped from the earth by his power- every now and then the reproaching or mocking tones of Greywulf would sound in his mind.

Platitudes of morality, speeches that demonstrated nothing more than a weakness to be mocked and laughed at were it delivered by anyone else- but it wasn't just anyone that these warnings and bits of advice came from. It was the only man to have bested him not just once, but twice. That lent his words... weight. At least, Sarevok snorted as he felt his muscles burn, heaving the blade he carried to the side in order to shunt away a slash aimed at obliterating his head, it wasn't Imoen's voice. Bad enough that he had part of her soul in him- the last thing he needed was her cheery, never-ending voice incessantly bothering him.

No, it was little more than an annoyance that he felt. Annoyance that one as weak and misguided as Greywulf could have beaten him, nothing more. There was certainly no way he was actually considering the unending speeches and reprisals that his half-brother kept giving him, and if he was beginning to feel the effects of Greywulf's influence on him, how much more was Greywulf beginning to feel the words that Sarevok continually whispered, surreptitiously made him believe, even as he denied it outwardly? Greywulf would embrace the simple truths that Sarevok understood- absolute power was the only possible goal for a Bhaalspawn. The only reasonable goal for one of their lineage. And with Sarevok's help, they would have it. And- a very small and- if a certain bit of experimentation turned out the way Sarevok prayed it did, the possibility still existed that the Throne of Bhaal was not quite out of Sarevok's reach.

As the warriors fought and defended themselves against the onslaught still pouring from the Temple of Yaga-Shura, the ground beneath their feet shook and sent many of the combatants tumbling to the ground. Those who did not were given no chance to take advantage of their opponents' sudden weakness; behind them, the mountain that the Temple was carved into trembled violently and high above, the top of it exploded with flame and molten rock. Tucked between several rocks on the hillside, far from her pursuers, Aerie flashed into vision, gazing upward in horror. A volcano eruption? Now, of all times? Aerie stood from the spot she'd been using to take a breather and plan her next move and conjured what powers she had left, shielding the two fighters down by the Temple entrance from the sudden rain of magma and fireballs. Several exploded off the magical protections she'd summoned, the blue haze covering them rippling, nearly shattering upon several extremely powerful explosions- but they held fast, including the one over her own head. She was tucked fairly close to the mountain itself, putting her at less danger than the others, but no sense in taking chances.

The thought that this event might help their forces out, the giants without their own forms of magic protection, died quickly as she realized that the giants were big enough and so immune to fire that this would be little more than an inconvenience for them- and her dirtied features only fell further when she saw her two pursuers roar, pointing to her position by the Temple, already moving to track her again. This was bad- she couldn't move while keeping three shields in place, and dropping them for the next few moments could prove fatal for any of them. Still, why had it happened to begin with? Surely their luck couldn't have been that bad?

A sudden wash of darkness passed through her spirit, and Aerie nearly faltered in maintaining her protections before renewing them. She concentrated on the feeling that had just passed- a presence foreign yet familiar... she concentrated, reaching out for the source of the power that had touched her- _flames and explosions erupting, a guardian tearing open the fabric of the Plane as it came into existence_- Aerie felt a sudden tightness in her throat. Whatever Imoen and Greywulf had unleashed in their quest to get the heart, it was powerful and ancient- and the plan she and Jaheira had come up with was more important than ever. If she could just hold on for a bit longer, if those fire giants would wait just a bit longer before- Aerie blinked in shock, noticing that the giants she had though were pointing at her, the giants fighting against Minsc and Sarevok- they weren't fighting anymore? No... no, they were heading for the Temple itself, rushing back inside the rumbling halls of the Temple. The two bloodied warriors below were as uncertain as any of them, still holding their weapons at guard, but uncertain of what had just transpired- of course. That volcanic eruption was a trigger, a releasing of the guardian that watched over the heart. And if it had been released, that could only mean one thing.

"Aerie!" Minsc's concerned voice reached her quivering ears as the girl remained where she was, bluish light shining from her hands as she concentrated, keeping her powers stable as fire continued to rain from the sky. "Are you all right? The evil men have run back inside to their hiding holes! But Greywulf and Imoen-"

"I know." Aerie said, her throat hoarse from shouting spells. "We need to get away from the Temple, up toward the cliff face where we split up from..."

Minsc nodded, either knowing that Aerie could not move and keep up her powers or simply out of over protectiveness, but he picked her up and moved with a swiftness that belied his size, craning his head to shout at the Deathbringer, to gather his attention- the Deathbringer was already climbing the mountainside to return to their old position. Either he had the same plan as them, or he had very good hearing. Regardless, the three of them moved as fast as they dared, finally reaching the plateau that was just under the peak of the mountain opposite the Temple, shielded from the magma falling all around them- and there they found Jaheira seated cross-legged, her eyes closed, palms open, effort twisting her features to speak of the struggle she was experiencing.

"What is she doing?" Sarevok growled as Minsc set Aerie down gently, the elf finally daring to release her spell shields. "Has she been here during our entire battle? What kind of-"

"Do *not* disturb her. Not right now." Aerie growled, uncharacteristically cross, but in no mood to deal with their latest member's taunts or bullying tactics. "She's the final part of our plan... all we need to do now is wait for Greywulf and Imoen to make it out... if they can."

X X X X X X

It was a strange feeling, this. Pushing so much attention inward, giving her all to this one task- not so much in that she had never been so single-minded in her pursuit of a goal, but more so in that it came through her nature magics. She had always been a warrior first, the powers of a druid merely a secondary addition to her arsenal that gave her an edge. Not to say she hadn't kept in practice of every power she could muster, keeping her connection to the earth around her as strong as possible. Still, Jaheira had never considered herself a master of druidic magic. Not like, say, Cernd had been. But she was still every bit the wielder of nature magic that a druid of her rank should have been, and the powers of nature were her to command... if she could master them.

Her consciousness was no longer truly in her body, no, it was dispersed within the very world around her- an experience like this could shatter her mind, leaver her an empty shell of broken thought and memory if she wasn't careful. But it also gave the potential to commune with nature so much better, the ability to see what the earth saw, to feel what it felt... and to push it, mold it to her will if necessary. She snaked her consciousness into the ground, the rock, pushing past the dirt and the rock and the soil until she felt herself literally inside the Temple. The mountainside... she was part of it. She could feel the carving of the Temple all around her, could feel the pounding as battle waged around her- battle? Her brow furrowed and sweat poured from her face as she focused even further- breathless footsteps pounding across her surface, annihilation itself following. Scorched earth passing above as a great being of flame and power passed behind the runner, chasing them relentlessly.

Imoen or Greywulf- it had to be. One of them had retrieved the heart and they were trying to escape. The other one was... there. Back toward the entrance of the Temple, skittering back and forth like a bug across a hot boulder as other presences cracked her surface with their weapons, attempting to squash the annoyance. No- she couldn't divide her attention like this. She had one purpose, and her small foray into seeking out their presences gave her enough information to know that if they could make it out, her powers would be needed right away.

She had cast the spell Implosion before, but it had always been on a small scale- ripping the very earth itself open and creating a chasm into which an enemy could falter and be crushed with the power of the ground itself... it was nothing to be trifled with. But to do something of this magnitude, to cast an Implosion large enough to swallow the Temple itself and everyone inside? She had never tested her powers in such a manner. Never. And yet, this was what she had been born for. This was what she had trained her entire life for- defending innocents, defending the Balance with everything she possessed. It would have to be enough. She felt a sudden wash of cold in the fiery belly of the mountain- no time to figure out what it was. Jaheira pictured the mountainside, the earth surrounding and beneath the Temple cavity. She pictured the pieces of stone that made up that particular mountain, the soil and the stone and the worms and the very essence of nature rolling through it, drew strength from it... and with invisible hands, Jaheira began to push. Pull. Tug at the stone itself, racking the foundations of stone with forces conjured from nature itself.

Like floating within the stone, Jaheira could see the foundations, could feel what kept the Temple in place. Could feel how the mountain was composed. Had to crack the stone beneath, to tear it open and let everything above come tumbling down- she struggled with all her might, but there was nothing. No movement. Nothing. Desperation flooded her- this had to work. It had to. Just like any other Implosion spell- just like it. The size was of no importance... again she pushed. Grasping the rock and the soil and pulling it apart, slipping inside it and crumbling it from inside. A slight tremble of the rock she was focusing on- yes. It began to split and crack, the edges trembling within the mountain itself. Yes- now the one beside it. Pull at it and rend it like parchment- good. Now that big chunk of obsidian, buried deep in the earth. Then the piece of granite. Little by little, she tore apart the mountain from the inside. Another boom above, inside the Temple- they were getting too close to the exit. She had to hurry the process. The whole thing had to go, and soon.

Jaheira focused her powers, her entire being, letting herself go further than she would ever have dreamed- fading out until she could see the entirety of the mountain, like it was a child's play set. Her intangible hands took hold and began tearing, pulling, crushing, breaking... the pressure within her mind was too much. It would kill her if she did not pull back. Jaheira barely felt the trickle of blood running from her nostrils as she hesitated for the briefest of seconds... then delved fully into the spell once more.

X X X X X X

A blast of flame immolated the ground where she had just been standing, sending licks of flame scorching her back despite the Protection from Fire that was shielding her body. If not for the magic she'd been surrounded by, she would have been incinerated long ago; there was still a good chance of that, actually. Imoen limped with all her strength, trying to put as much distance between her and Imix as possible, knowing that she had either two options: run and hope for the best, or turn and try to fight the Elemental Prince of Fire along with two Fire Giant Honor Guardsmen. Injured. Yeah, no.

Still, it wasn't as though she could really outpace her opponents- the only reason she was still ahead of them as it stood was that Imix had as little regard for the fire giants as he did for her- if they got in his way he simply banished them from existence with a single blow of his mighty fist. And by banished from existence, she knew that meant a giant, bloody, fist sized hole in the fire giant's chest. One of the honor guards had been foolish enough to impede Imix's progress as he pursued her- that was not going to happen again. The other was well behind him, following to... she didn't know, praise his skill when he did catch up to her and burn her alive for stealing Yaga-Shura's heart. Which was almost certainly going to happen the moment she reached the stairs heading down the pyramid like structure of the Temple. She supposed that there was a good shot at triggering the numerous traps she'd seen tucked away in the ceiling and that she might meet a sudden end via those monstrosities... but then again, she doubted they had been meant to kill someone running _away _from the Temple. In which case, something right behind her might get the brunt of the attack- Imoen felt a sudden rush of hope, tempered by the knowledge that she still had to descend roughly one hundred stairs, each one about half her height. With a wounded leg. This could be problematic-

Below the temple, the earth shook, and Imoen nearly tottered over the first step, which would have led her to a very painful tumble- while rolling down the entire staircase would have been quicker than her attempts to hobble it, Imix only a few steps behind her not-withstanding, it would most likely result in a broken neck. It would leave her unable to move, most likely. But her options were getting limited- wait. A distant memory flashed through her mind of a tale Greywulf had told her, a battle fought underneath the city of Athkatla during a quest to fight something called the Unseeing Eye- he had been in a similar position, needing a quick way to descend a flight of stairs... and Imoen inhaled sharply, praying to whichever god might have been listening that this would work. The first thing was to do that which Imix least expected- she leaned back and hurled the heart as far as she could, sending it down the stairway. It flew for far too long, hitting the stairway with a squish and continuing its roll until it lie nearly half the distance of the stairwell down before slowly coming to a halt on one of the stairs. The Prince of Fire had been reaching for her in the moment she'd thrown the still beating organ- his fingers were close enough to raise heat blisters on her skin as she stood, trying to ignore the pain as she concentrated on her next spell, hands preparing the spell as she prepared to take a running jump. She just needed Imix paralyzed by indecision for a brief second... and pause he did, watching the heart go flying.

That was it- the spell was ready, and Imoen braced herself for the pain that was going to follow this stunt. Her hands erupted into a Cone of Cold, pointed at the floor before her, flash freezing the ground and the rocky stair before her. Not that it would last more than a moment- the ambient heat was enough to melt the ice within two seconds of it solidifying. Two seconds being one more than she needed. Running forward and leaping with her hands still erupting in ice, she tucked her legs up as she left the ground, ensuring that she hit the next stair seat first, the three foot drop cracking something in her tailbone- but the ice had done the job. Rather than stopping abruptly with simply another cracked bone, she kept sliding, off the stair and onto the next one, frozen before her landing by the spell she was struggling to maintain throughout the pain. She barely heard Imix roar in fury as she continued her bone breaking slide, the fire in her body traveling up from her rear to her back, each jolt worse than the last as she continued downwards. The ground shook as Imix hurtled down the stairway after her, the sound of the traps she had noted previously triggering upon her bouncy ride echoing as they all dropped after her, right in front of Imix, impeding his progress as he crushed them in annoyance. Fire giants were a blur as they tried futilely to reach out and stop her descent, but her speed had picked up as she moved- none of their reflexes were up to the task. And down below, she could see a small figure behind more fire giants, the edges of his robes burned and his features covered in soot and dirt, but there he was- Greywulf was watching her descent with as much horror as hope, the fire giants he had been dodging and trying to keep distracted now far more interested in the rapidly descending girl, as well as the heart of their master lying unattended on the stairway.

Imoen was coming close to the stair where she her throw had landed the heart- this would be the hardest part. Nabbing the heart in mid slide would be nearly impossible with one hand, but to keep her descent in something of a controlled fashion, where her only injuries were to her tailbone and her lower back would mean remaining in complete control of her spell. No way to have both, and besides, did she really want to live forever? Imoen inhaled sharply as she came close enough to reach out and snag the heart... and with one hand, she did just that. It nearly worked; with one hand still maintaining her Cone of Cold, the other clutching the heart, she nearly kept her perfect slide, staying in 'control' until the very end. Almost. With only one hand creating the ice path she was sliding down, it wasn't wide enough to ensure that her rocky bouncing kept her on the slick path. A bounce took her on half ice, half stone, and with that everything went to hell. Her slide turned into a completely uncontrolled roll, her body bouncing and tumbling like a ragdoll the last dozen steps, ricocheting off the final stair and sliding to a halt in a crumpled, bloody heap at Greywulf's feet. The fire giants and Imix were nearly upon them, their target in sight- Greywulf snarled, dropping to one knee as lightning flashed from his fingertips and struck everyone in the arc before him. It wasn't enough to kill anyone, especially Imix, but once again it hadn't been meant to. From his kneeling position he picked up Imoen's broken body, trying not to look upon her bloodied features, trying not to think at how many bones had shattered upon her final descent- he turned and rushed toward the exit as fast as his body would allow him.

The Temple shook once more, but this time it was much more than a mere tremor. The floor began cracking beneath him, and Greywulf could only muster the power of a Haste spell in response as he began navigating the rapidly shrinking tiles, too much of the path beginning to collapse from under him. It was spreading like wildfire- the cracks were leaving small chunks of rock where entire pieces of floor had stood, but the exit was right there- so close. No way was this going to stop him now, not with Imoen like this. He heard the roar of Imix behind him as he spared a glance over his shoulder- the Elemental Prince was rapidly descending as the entire mountain imploded upon itself. The Fire Giants were gone as well, victims of this unnatural disaster- all that remained was for him to get Imoen and he out alive... which was suddenly much more difficult. The entire last section of flooring that led outside was gone, leaving a span far too wide for him to simply leap over. There were no other ways to reach the exit, no other paths that he could weave over... just the bright light of the exit, and a gap that he would be at in a matter of seconds. He needed an edge-

_**"Have you forgotten me so quickly?"**_

No. Not for something like this. He'd promised Jaheira that he wouldn't let it take him again. He'd promised himself that he'd rather die than give in once more. But all he needed was a small taste of power, not the whole, not the entirety of the Slayer. He just needed a bit of its power, enough to make the jump-

_** "It doesn't work that way and you know it. You cannot have part of us, not anymore, not now that I have been tasted freedom in the past. We must be one, you and I."**_

An ethereal vision of the Slayer appeared beside him as he ran toward the gap, the ground behind his feet collapsing far too quickly- it wasn't supposed to be this way. He could handle sacrificing himself to hold back the taint. He could handle putting himself on the line if it meant keeping the taint in check. He had even promised Jaheira that he would not let the Slayer take control for her sake. But this was Imoen. His companion for life. She meant more to him than Jaheira, in a way. And to see her like this, broken and bloody, to let it end like this... no. He refused.

Watching the Temple rumble and quake from atop their vantage point, the party grimaced as part of the mountain collapsed, still no sign of their companions, the only sight being that of dust and smoke pouring from the entrance- and then, just as the mountain collapsed entirely, a blur leapt from the dust and the dirt, landing in a crouch, dirt and smoke trailing in wisps from... it. For that was what it was... definitely not a he, or a she, or a human in any way or shape.

"Gods, no..." Aerie breathed in horror, her blue eyes shining as she took a step back. Minsc did not say a word, only glared with hardened eyes as he cradled Jaheira's unconscious body. Sarevok stood, folding his arms, his eyes never leaving the sight below- the Slayer cradling Imoen's body, the heart of Yaga-Shura still clutched tightly in her bruised hands. The Slayer looked up to meet Sarevok's glare, and roared a challenge, a teeth-rattling bellow that belied the slight twinge of humanity audible in the echo.

Sarevok did not flinch. Sarevok did not move. He simply smiled and watched the Slayer stride from the ruin of the mountain, the Avatar of Bhaal unleashed once again, contrary to all promises and oaths to the contrary. No words were necessary.


	21. Part 1: Predictable

_Author's Note: Hey all, I'm still alive. My apologies for not responding to reviews and the like as of late- getting ready for the last term of college and seeking a job for afterward is time-consuming on many different levels._

The only sounds interrupting the void of the Pocket Plane were that of thunderous echoes, perhaps the screams of tortured souls in the plane of reality one over, or maybe just the laughs of a mad god celebrating and reveling in the chaos erupting throughout Faerun. Few words had been exchanged since the six of them had returned to the Pocket Plane. Words were unfitting. The mood was somber, the tone dark. Both Imoen and Jaheira lay close to death, though their injuries could not have been more different. Jaheira's body was unscathed, the damage done to her purely in the mental realm, her spirit nearly shattering as she wielded forces of nature beyond anything she had attempted prior. Imoen's body was a ruin of wounds and broken bones, burns and bruises. Neither had regained consciousness since they had arrived via Greywulf's plane-altering magics.

Still, neither were dead... yet. Aerie had devoted every moment since their arrival to keeping her friends from the cold embrace of death... no simple task. Minsc was no healer, but his skills as a ranger were still of some use, helping to try and tend some of the wounds upon Imoen, while Aerie trained her mind upon Jaheira's, hoping to keep her mind from shattering. Sarevok watched from across the cavernous paths, his face unreadable, as always. Did the safety of his comrades in arms mean anything to him? Perhaps, perhaps not. Aerie no longer spared any attention for him, nor Minsc. Still, the anger that burned in their hearts was palpable to both, and it was not immediately clear to whom the anger was directed. Yaga-Shura's forces? Sarevok? Or perhaps Greywulf?

"He hasn't come out of that room since we came back." Aerie said grimly, her light tones tinged with hurt and betrayal. "He should be here, trying to help Jaheira."

"There is much explaining to do, Minsc thinks." the ranger said, his lips tight in a line of disapproval. "A promise was broken today... and he would know the reason."

Sarevok's face remained unchanging, even as he tried his best not to laugh at the two working to save their comrades, unaware that he was listening intently to every word they said. Perfect. Simply... perfect. A knee-jerk reaction to their leader's change into the Slayer... something not unexpected, especially considering this promise he was hearing about- had that fool of a brother made an oath to keep the Slayer at bay? If that was so, his mind would be even more tormented right now... something he could use to his advantage. Greywulf had retreated to the site of his first Challenge in the Pocket Plane since arriving here, and had not returned since. No doubt he was struggling with the demon inside him. It was a pointless task- not as though he could make the Slayer abandoned its quest to assert control over his spirit by simply arguing with it. Still, it was a perfectly natural reaction. Cutting oneself off from contact while attempting to master the demon within.

It also played right into Sarevok's desires. He had long since joining their group realized that getting Greywulf to take the power at his fingertips would require removing more than just his moral safeguards, his self-righteousness. His friends, his allies... their trust would have to go as well. He unfolded his arms and strode, as visible as he could make himself, to the sides of Aerie and Minsc, the latter having exhausted all his supplies and potions on Imoen already, while Aerie continued to work her magics upon Jaheira's mind. "I do not see any progress... are your skills truly so feeble, or do they have the slightest chance of recovery?"

Minsc's eyes blazed with rage, and Sarevok had to suppress the urge to step back when Minsc stood and stepped into Sarevok's face, their eyes meeting as he growled. "Watch your tongue, evil one. Minsc will not hear such words while his companions remain at risk."

"Ignore him, Minsc." Aerie murmured, her eyes still closed as she ran her hands over the top of Jaheira's prone body. "Save your anger for someone who matters."

Sarevok arched an eyebrow at that- so, the Avariel actually had a backbone? He had written her off as a weakling thus far, a broken bird whose magical power was the only thing keeping his brother from abandoning her thus far. Her demeanor and visage suggested nothing more, most of the time... but there was a cold steel underneath that innocence, somewhere. He smirked, folding his arms as Minsc reluctantly returned to a seated position by Imoen, concern and anger struggling for control upon his face.

"Hnh. It seems to me that your anger is not directed towards me... I heard well your feelings toward our leader, you know." he remarked, keeping his own tones infuriatingly calm. "And I wonder why you work so hard to keep Imoen alive when you feel such anger at Greywulf saving her life."

"That's not it at all!" Aerie exclaimed with frustration, pulling away from Jaheira as her eyes flashed open, those blue eyes full of not just anger... but fear? "He... he did it again. He wasn't supposed to... he promised us he wouldn't."

"And so rather than have him use the power that lies within him at all times, you would see not just both Imoen and Greywulf perish. Perhaps you are colder than I had thought. Foolish girl, do you not realize what you request? You ask the boy to deny that which is a part of him- like asking a man to deny himself the use of an arm, or a bird the use of its wings."

He could almost see the visible anger rising up within Aerie after that last comment... it had been on purpose, after all, if only to push her fury further to the surface. After all, it was hard to think with a clear head when enraged. What he did not expect to feel was a meaty fist slam into this side of his jaw and send him stumbling away, nearly falling to the ground before regaining his balance. Minsc was standing to Aerie's side now, and Sarevok let himself chuckle darkly as he wiped a trace of blood from his split lip. "Deny it all you wish, but realize that you expect the impossible from your fearless leader. He is a Bhaalspawn first and foremost, and nothing you say or hope for will change that. Power is bred in his very essence... the darkness is a part of him. Were you truly set upon saving him from himself, you would understand this and help him control it, master it, not reject it! Until he realizes this, he will always face the temptations of the Slayer."

He turned on his heel and stalked away from them, heading towards the cavern where Greywulf remained. Behind him, Minsc and Aerie were left to settle and think upon the words Sarevok had taunted them with. Were they simply empty madness from a power-hungry would-have-been conqueror, or did his ideas have merit? It was a moment of indecision, and one which Sarevok could only smile at.

X X X X X X

Pacing wasn't something he did very often. It didn't seem that productive, it really only served to raise nervousness, and rather than venting excess energy, it only seemed to wind him up even further. Any people watching were certainly not calmed by it... overall, it was a completely useless tactic when trying to settle oneself. That didn't stop Greywulf from stalking back and forth through the cavern he had isolated himself within since their arrival. It wasn't the first time that a transformation into the Slayer had run his emotions ragged- the very first time he had changed into the avatar of Bhaal he had been crippled with fear at the evil he was capable of unleashing. He had sought his own death in his madness. This time was different- he wasn't struck with fear. It was anger. Rage that fueled his isolation. A frenzy at the damned unfairness of it all, a fury at the constant pressure in his mind, the mocking tones that he couldn't block it out... because it was a part of him that was speaking.

He snarled and turned, pointing at a cavern wall that suddenly became a sheet of perfect glass. Within it, his reflection showed not a ragged half-elf, but the monstrous form of his demonic avatar, staring back at him, a distorted copy of what he had been just hours ago. "You damned creature, why can't you just leave me the hell alone?!"

_**"HAHAHAHA!!!!" **_The Slayer's booming roar echoed in Greywulf's mind... or was it all around him? It certainly felt like everyone nearby could hear it, but the implications of that were too much for Greywulf to imagine right then. _**"You know as well as I that I cannot be removed from you like some sore or boil to be cut out! I am you! We are one!"**_

"No. No, we are not." Greywulf spat, shaking his head in furious denial. "You bastard wanted to kill Imoen back there, and it was only me that kept you from doing it, too!"

_ The Slayer barely felt the ripples and shockwaves behind him as the Temple of Yaga-Shura collapsed into the ground. It howled in triumph, before looking back down at the small body it held curled in its arms. So weak and fragile- one twist of his mighty claw and it would all be over for her. The heart of Yaga-Shura, what they had come for was safe- it was time to do what should have been done to this pathetic sibling for some time now..._

_ One of the Slayer's four arms moved to strike, but it froze in mid-air, a hissing voice filled with exertion cutting through the demon's mind. "You will not!!"_

"You shouldn't even be here!" Greywulf raged in frustration. "I enslaved you when I regained my soul from Irenicus. You shouldn't have the power to take me again."

_**"Take you? My host, I think your memory fails you. It was you who gave me control. You who made me flesh once more. I took nothing that was not freely offered."**_

Its words gave Greywulf pause- it was true, he had not been pulled into the abyss by the power of the demon before him. He had given it control, pure and simple. But how? How had it been that easy? Every time in the past when he had become the Slayer, it had been a struggle that threatened to tear him apart from inside when he tried to harness the power of the demon. In this case, it had been a simple... relaxation of the will, a simple willingness to give up control for a half-second, and then it was done. Over. He needed to know how it had happened- he couldn't risk such a theft of his control again.

"Then tell me how." Greywulf demanded, striding face to face with the reflection of the beast. "Why-"

_**"Were you so willing to give in to my lures, to the power that I possess? Perhaps it is not I you should be asking, is it?" **_It laughed, a screeching, heart-rending sound. _**"Your soul could not contain me forever, but it was you who fed my power. You who gave me the strength to break my bonds. The question you should ask yourself is this- Why did you allow it? Why did you set me free? I have never changed... have you?"**_

He opened his mouth to counter the creature, to oppose its lies and the foulness spewed from its mouth... and yet, he could not. There was nothing to counter with- it spoke the truth. Every time it took control, it was due to his willingness to turn over the reins to his body, to his soul. How it had it suddenly become so easy? A trick, or some kind of deception that it had used. It had to be, there was no other explanation, no other reason he would abandon the promises he had made so easily, that he would turn his back on the oaths he had made to Jaheira and the others-

Unless...

His body flushed warm and he felt a wave of fear mixed with anger fill his body. "No. That's not it. Whatever power I gained from Gromnir's essence, whatever powers that left him... I'm nothing more than I ever was. I'm not different."

_**"Keep telling yourself that as I claim your body for my own." **_the Slayer challenged, straightening to its full nine feet of height. _**"We were meant for one purpose... to rule. To destroy. To bring all power to ourselves, and to rule the Throne of Bhaal as one. Never forget that, my host. You have simply begun that process... and the more power you wield, the easier it will become to slip into my embrace. It is inevitable."**_

"You are a blight, a monstrosity that should not be and will not be, I swear it." Greywulf said, trying not to show how shaken he was by the realizations he had made. "Begone. I refuse to spar with you further."

_**"As you wish... I shall be here when you call."**_

It vanished from the mirror, leaving only a frightened half-elf visage in its place. Greywulf let his body slacken, sweat rolling from his face. Hs fear had overtaken his anger, and all he could think about was what it had said, and whether it had spoken the truth. Say it was right. Say that the essence he and Imoen had absorbed from Gromnir had unbalanced them... that the Bhaal taint now held a stronger hold upon them than it had previously. So easy to say that it wouldn't matter, that they would fight it no matter how much strength it gained. To live that, to face it in truth and life... that was harder.

He leaned against the smooth glassy surface that his power had conjured with one hand, his head drooping- a new reflection appeared in the mirror. His ire would've risen had he the energy to be angry, but as it stood all he could manage was a grimace as he turned to look at his half-brother's approach, the Red Dragon Scale shimmering in the low torchlight that illuminated the cavern.

"Quite the match you entertained with your darker half." Sarevok remarked, folding his arms, the sound of metal scraping against metal filling the room for a brief moment. "Had I not known of what powers you entertain inside your feeble body, I would've thought you quite mad."

"I'm not really in the mood for your attitude, Sarevok." Greywulf sighed, unable to put much bluster in his voice, simply hoping that Sarevok might show some sort of sympathy for once and let him be. "If you've got something to say to me I would have you do it without our usual runaround. Speak plainly and begone so I can think."

"Bah! I can see how well that has served you thus far." Sarevok shook his head. "Caught in a never-ending battle with the power that dwells within you. It is a fool's errand, you know this."

"And what would you do? Simply let it control your path like a puppet? That's not how I work, and you know it." Greywulf shook his head. "If that's all you've got to say, you're wasting your breath, and my time."

The Deathbringer smirked, unfolding his arms and striding up to tower over Greywulf, face to face. "Not in the slightest. Do you think so little of me? I am no fool, and neither are you, despite all evidence to the contrary. Of course you cannot simply let the taint take control of your actions, your life. It is you who must master it, who must bend it to your will. You had attained equilibrium, a balance of power in the past, but whatever has unbalanced you, it must be countered. You must assert yourself over it as well, or you will be no better than the mindless fools who were slaughtered across the Sword Coast for giving into the call of blood."

Greywulf paused, suddenly uncertain of how to respond. This... was not what he had expected to hear from his brother. It actually made sense- and not in a twisted, backwards form of logic kind of way. This was precisely the destination he had been striving towards in his mind, and Sarevok had just laid it out in words. He finally gathered his wits and spoke, "I find it hard to believe but I actually agree with you. I just don't know-"

"How?" Sarevok cut him off, a tone of bitterness entering his voice as he turned from Greywulf, stalking across the room. "Of that I can offer little support. I never achieved the level of power in the taint that you have attained, unfortunately. All I can ask is that you rediscover your control once again, and soon. I should hate to find myself or your other companions opposite the power of the Slayer because you lost control of your emotions in the midst of battle with Yaga-Shura or another Bhaalspawn."

"I didn't know you cared so much." Greywulf snorted.

"I don't. But for some reason you have seen fit to keep them close to your heart, and if that can keep the beast at bay for a time, then so be it." the warrior spoke. "I question why they have left you alone like this in your time of desperation, that I should be the one to offer you advice right now. Hah! It is enough to make me laugh were the situation not so dire. Perhaps they fear what you have become? Mayhap it was best that neither Jaheira nor Imoen saw you in your prior state."

"Watch your words, brother." Greywulf warned, his lips drawing a thin line across his face.

The Deathbringer smirked again, then turned on his heel, moving to leave the cavern. "Very well then. Struggle alone if you will, but heed my warnings. Control it, block it, if you can. I begin to doubt if you have the strength to do even that."

Greywulf watched him leave, letting the man's words roll around in his head for a moment. They were true, if unclear. How could he? The Slayer wasn't just some beast he could tame, a habit to break or an addiction to cure. It was more than that, it was a being, a power within him that was always there, always hungry, always wanting to be free. He couldn't simply block it out... but perhaps that was it. Perhaps blocking it out wasn't the key... mastering it was. Sarevok had been wrong. He couldn't just ignore it... but he would learn to tame it, to make it follow his orders, his commands. The Deathbringer's taunts rang in his head, and he let them settle for a brief moment before gathering his strength. He would need it for this...

The sound of dark, chaotic magic crackling behind him made Sarevok smile as he listened halfway up the stairway. He would have descended further to see Greywulf's attempts to control the Slayer in all its glory, but he was not so foolish as to tempt fate. He was already taking a gamble, goading the sorcerer into thinking he could master the Slayer. Sarevok knew that whatever he suggested, Greywulf would instinctively shy away from. His half-brother would never take anything he said on face value, never believe that he was telling the whole, unbridled truth. And by suggesting that Greywulf deny the Slayer completely, the fool had done the only thing he was capable of. Was this gambit without its risks? Of course not- if Greywulf lost control completely, the beast could ascend the stairwell and slaughter them without warning. But he wouldn't let it happen. He would continue to exhaust himself, spend himself trying to beat the creature, trying to control it when it was free, never realizing that every time he handed control over, it would get a little easier. A little quicker.

Small steps, that's all they were. Little prods and pushes in the right direction for his naive sibling. One more step towards power, carrying Sarevok in his wake.

X X X X X X

A slight breeze lifting the De'Arnise banners, with only a hint of clouds in the sky above. An auspicious beginning to their journeys once more, it seemed, as Anomen, Solaufein, and Reynald emerged from the drawbridge of the De'Arnise Keep once again. And, as Solaufein noted to himself with a hint of relief, only the three of them. Anomen had spoken little of the actual issue, only pausing briefly as they secured their gear for the trip that proper court etiquette should always be respected when dealing with nobles, and that inviting the Lady of a self-governing people to join a marauding group of adventurers was not exactly that.

Not that she had even been around to wish them a farewell upon their departure- they had been given well enough stock and supply by the majordomo of the Keep when they were ready to depart this morning, and when asked where Nalia had been, he had only responded that matters of nobility had forced themselves upon her schedule. Solaufein suppressed a roll of the eye- he and Nalia were... friends, he supposed, but their world was a much different one. He supposed that might be the case with anyone who was not of noble birth; perhaps that was why Anomen and Nalia got along so well- they both understood the path of a certain pedigree to their birth. Though in an un-surprising turn of events, the one with the loving parents and agreeable upbringing had become ever more the aloof noble while Anomen had become a noble in name only, his family's reputation having long since fallen into the gutter, salvaged only by his exploits within the Order.

Reynald spared one more look behind him as the De'Arnise Keep shrunk behind them, continuing their march south. He turned his gaze back to their road, shifting his path towards Solaufein, the pair hiking in V formation behind Anomen. He waited until they were well close enough, lagging slightly so that Anomen could not hear their conversation too well before speaking. "It appears you have your wish, Solaufein. Congratulations."

The tone of disappointment was unmistakable, but there was no bitterness within, something that gave Solaufein a hint of admiration for the warrior. Not wasting his time with anger against someone who had admittedly, little to do with the final outcome of a situation. Reynald sighed gently, speaking again, "Perhaps you were right- I was rather surprised to see that Lady Nalia did not even accompany us out this morn. Better if we forget about it altogether, truly."

Solaufein nodded silently, considering their situation. Anomen's injury had forced them to face facts- while the three of them were all competent, even great fighters and could hold their own against most any physical threat, they had little defense against magic users and those who wielded the dark arts against them. As though thinking the same thing, Anomen stopped for a moment, turning to the others while stroking his beard. "Perhaps we should consider further before we continue on our path towards Watcher's Keep. Though Nalia would have been a viable choice to aid us on our journey, we cannot take her with us and she has made as much clear."

"A mage would certainly make our path easier." Solaufein grunted, shifting the weight of his armor. "It would be foolish not to acknowledge our weaknesses. Where can we find one who would join us on such short notice?"

"I would rather not venture all the way back to Athkatla, truth be told." Anomen admitted. "Perhaps you may think me vain, but I find simply waiting the Copper Coronet for those of a mind for money to walk in rather distasteful."

"I agree," Reynald nodded, "There must certainly be another place we can search for those we need. T'would not be as much a detour if we shifted our path towards the town of Trademeet. Slim chances of finding a mage there, but it might suit our purposes-"

"No... not Trademeet, but there is a spot nearby that would serve just as well, and one in which there is a man who could fill our needs quite nicely." Solaufein interrupted, memories of his time spent with the Bhaalspawn coming to the surface. "He is not a mage, per se, but he wields magic just the same."

Anomen frowned, considering who he might be speaking of- "A druid, then? You speak of the man that Keldorn accompanied to the grove back during the attacks on Trademeet, do you?"

"I do. Cernd was his name, if my memory serves me correctly." Solaufein mused, judging distances in his head. "If we hike through the night, we can reach the grove in two days."

Anomen listened, nodding slightly as he considered the possibility. "Yes... yes, that would be possible. I assume neither of you have any compunctions with this idea? I have never met the man myself, but I consider your recommendation well enough proof, Solaufein. If he spent time with Sir Keldorn... yes. Surely he will be a worthy companion, should he choose to join us."

"I feel it necessary to point out that we should still seek out a fully trained mage." Reynald objected, his hands resting upon his belt as he gestured towards the horizon, towards where Watcher's Keep was located. "Druidic magics are all well and good, and the power of Helm that you wield is no small thing, I do not dispute it. But what if we are faced with a lich, or a dragon? You yourself said that creatures of great and terrible power guard the Tower of the Guardian. We must be cautious."

"Your words have merit, and I do not doubt the sincerity for our safety behind them." Anomen sighed, "But we must also keep in mind that we cannot delay for too long. Whatever evil that seeks to escape the tower will not remain chained for much longer. That the Knights of the Vigil have asked for help speaks of how dire this situation truly is. If we had the time, I would not hesitate to seek out the Bhaalspawn Greywulf and all his companions myself and see if they would lend their swords to this cause. But we cannot spend so much time seeking allies, only for us to fail because we tarried overlong."

Solaufein listened quietly, though his mind had slipped a touch at the mention of his old companions. He had, after all, originally sought to locate them and warn them of the drow threat that had invaded Letherel in its quest to find them. Still, after speaking with Anomen and hearing of his urgent need for aid, he had shifted his focus to help this squire rather than continue his quest to find his old companions. Faerun was a big place, after all... and if anyone could take care of themselves, it was them. And who knew, perhaps this path would take him into contact with them again. They did have a certain way of ending up in the thick of things...

"Look sharp- if I am not mistaken, I see the dust of horsemen riding towards us from the hills we just traversed." Anomen broke into his thoughts sharply, gesturing towards the cloud in the distance that drew ever closer.

Solaufein's mind cleared immediately- he placed on hand on his sword hilt, letting the other drift towards the pouch where he kept his dimensional stone. The others prepared their weapons as well, but within moments it was clear that they would not be needed. There were a total of four riders, two holding the banner of De'Arnise high as they rode. The other two were the Captain of the Keep's guard, Cernick, as well as the Lady herself, Nalia De'Arnise.

The men lowered their guard with both relief and pleased surprise- rather, most of them did. Reynald glanced toward Solaufein, only to receive a thin grimace in return. They had no more time to discuss their mutual feelings on the matter before their guests arrived, the horses staggering back and forth a moment before letting their riders dismount.

"Ah! I am glad that we caught up to you before you were too far out of reach." Nalia breathed, slightly winded from the gallop her steeds had made. "I trust you were not too alarmed by my sudden pursuit?"

"Not after we saw what colors flew from those banners," Anomen laughed, gesturing to the flags that her honor guard bore. "I have been on the receiving end of far too many ambushes that started thus, however. It was a relief to know that we had nothing to be worried about."

"I agree- it is a pleasure to see you again, m'lady." Reynald bowed low. "We had been told that you would not be seeing you again before we departed- that you had been called away by unavoidable matters that you were forced to politick. What brings you to our side once again?"

"Something of the sort," Nalia said dismissively before smiling at the former paladin. "But surely you know? It was you, after all, who first extended the invitation, after all."

Solaufein's head turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he took this in. Nalia had changed her mind so quickly? He trusted his senses implicitly- he had not survived in the Underdark, striving against assassins and treacherous Houses for so long on strength of arms alone. He knew when something was wrong- when he was being lied to. And everything in his mind and body screamed that something here was *very* wrong.

"Lady Nalia-" Anomen began, smiling weakly but raising his hand to protest,, before she cut him off with a shake of the head and another lilting laugh.

"Come now, Anomen, surely you know I could not let you and yours go on in such danger. Our words last night gave me pause- if you were to meet your end on the road, devoid of magical aid, I would never have forgiven myself. And you of all people know better than to live your life with regrets."

"That... is true enough." Anomen paused, before lowering his tone again. "But what of the... other, matter we spoke of? Those you warned me of, the Rune?"

Nalia's smile barely twitched, but she did not show any other sign of discomfort. "Let them try something, I say. I cannot remain holed up in my Keep for the rest of my life, now can I? Captain Cernick will be more than capable of defending my home while I am gone."

Solaufein cut in, his tone even and neutral. "We would not wish any harm to befall your home, Nalia. We were just about to recruit another to our cause with magic at his disposal. The druid Cernd-"

"Him? Excuse my rudeness, but you will need more than simple nature spells to fight this battle." Nalia smirked, a hint of incredulousness in her tone as she spoke. "Another of Greywulf's companions, wasn't he?"

"Not quite, but he did accompany my old mentor for a time." Anomen said with a frown. Solaufein noticed- perhaps it was disapproval at any hint of disparagement towards Keldorn or his judgment, or maybe he was picking up on the same suspicion that plagued Solaufein. Regardless, the drow allowed himself to hope that perhaps they might be able to reject her offer, leave their old friend to her own devices- "But we could use your help just as well as his, m'lady. I know for a fact there are no compunctions among this group if you come along, so with that in mind, welcome aboard!"

Nalia smiled and nodded, handing the reins of her horse to Captain Cernick as the man mounted his own steed again. "And it is a good feeling to be on the road once more! Let us recruit this druid if you so desire and be on our way- it has been far too long since I was given a chance to see the land from outside my castle. I look forward to whatever new adventures await."

"As do we all." Reynald smiled broadly, walking to Nalia's side. "And if you will permit me, I would like to say that I was hoping you would change your mind, if only so that I could remain with you for a time longer."

"You are quite the charmer, aren't you?" Nalia laughed playfully, Anomen exchanging a few words with the guardsmen of the Keep before they left. "I do believe I'll have to keep an eye on you."

Solaufein said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed on their newest companion. The feeling would be mutual, no doubt.

X X X X X X

In the hills surrounding what had once been the Temple of Yaga-Shura, several dozen fire giants and soldiers of Yaga-Shura marched, trying in desperation to reach their master and tell him what had happened to the sanctuary of their god. The Implosion spell had spewed lava and fire all over the mountain side- it was going to be nearly impossible to recover anything from the wreckage. They had spent a few hours trying to dig the artifacts and more important pieces of wreckage from the pit of the mountain, but it had proved pointless. What the rocks had not buried the lava had. Not even the fire giants could withstand the intense heat of the magma that flowed over everything, slowly but surely.

After a time, it had been decided that their only course of action was to be leaving the Marching Mountains entirely and finding their god. Warning him of what had been stolen from their guard. Would Yaga-Shura kill them for their failure? Quite possibly, and it would be a punishment well-deserved. But they had no other choice- they could not dissapoint their master any further than they already had. He would be the new Lord of Murder; better to throw themselves upon his mercies than to abandon him altogether and suffer his wrath when he was a fully formed god.

They were just reaching a canyon pass that would lead them out of the mountains altogether... as they filed into the shadowed straits, the figure standing high above smiled wickedly. She had wondered if these men and women would be foolish enough to run back to their 'god,' to ask him for forgiveness, to try and prove their loytalty, useless as it was. Had they done the smart thing and ran for their lives, they would have lived past the day. As it was, she could not allow them to reach Yaga-Shura and warn him of his newfound vulnerability. If Greywulf and Imoen were to overcome the fire giant and his army, they would have to take him by surprise- he could have no clue what they intended or how they intended to go about it.

Which meant, of course, that these poor mortals were about to face a rude awakening. Amelyssan stalked away from the edge of the canyon, then pointed her spear at the rocky cliff faces. With a single word of power, yellow bolts of lightning began erupting around her weapon, finally reaching out and brushing the sides of the rock. Down below, the warrior, clerics and mages looked up at the thundering echoes and saw only flashes of light striking the canyon cliff faces. Within moments, the rocks lost their hold upon one another and began tumbling downward, collapsing upon those who had put their trust in a fool, a brute.

Amelyssan lowered her weapon for a moment, then walked back to the cliff and peered downward, nodding in perverse satisfaction at the broken bodies and buried men below. Wait... a stirring among some of the victims. The fire giants- big and strong enough to avoid being completely killed in the avalanche of stone. Very well. That was good enough; it had been some time since her spear had been fed, after all.

The giant humanoids groaned and howled in pain as they tried to free themselves from the boulders atop them- one of them finally managed to get his mangled leg from the wreckage and tumbled to the ground, only to look up in terror as the world around them darkened. Above, a figure floated down on the wings of the air, obscuring the sun with her body, her face a smile of pure malice. She touched down before them and strode to her prey quietly, casually. Through the canyon walls and the mountain pases, the screams of the dead and dying could be heard, the dust and rock stained red.


	22. Part 1: Friendly Facade

For a time, there was nothing. No light, no sound, no consciousness. Just a black stillness that kept all but the most primal, base urges from thought and mind. Still, one overriding sense kept gnawing at her, one desire that kept her from sliding too far into oblivion. Survive. That's what she'd done her whole life, after all- survive. She'd survived everything, from the loss of her family and home as a child, to the loss of her friends and mentors as she grew older... she'd even survived the torments and what the madman Irenicus had taken from her.

Still she clung to life, because that was all she knew how to do. Cling to life, force herself upon it. Waiting for... something, anything to tie her back to the world she'd left. How long had it been like this? Time wasn't something that could truly be measured in this place, in the realm of dreams and mindscapes- but in a flash, in an instant, there was something new. A new hope to run to- and without warning, her life flashed before her eyes.

_ Stone walls, with vaguely familiar banners hanging on each pillar, torches lighting the cold passages. Moments of dead silence and calm intermingled between raucous interruptions. She could see her own fingers clutching those of a woman, her features exotic, indwelt with the kind of beauty that came from the long lived ancestry that half of her lineage provided. The woman looked behind her, glancing down at the child- she smiled, and her world immediately lit up with the knowledge that this woman would be there for her, that everything would be okay. It served to calm her and bring her to peace. The world was safe- her world was safe. Wasn't it?_

The world strobed with white light...

_The castle walls- this time aflame, the regal banners and symbols put to the torch. Dead men lay here and there, products of the revolution going on all around her. Again, her eyes saw through the body of a child- again, she could see her hands clutching those of the same woman, but even as they ran through the halls and castle corridors, the knowledge was there- it had been a lie. The peace, the safety she had imagined for herself was gone. All gone. The woman's face had a long cut running along one cheek- her look was one of sheer terror, of desperation to find a way out. An explosion ripped through the stone walls and like a beacon of hope, there was freedom stretching out before her and the woman she called 'mother.' A breach in the castle walls, stone and rock falling away to reveal a drop down to the hillside below, longer and higher than anything she had seen or attempted before. Outside were the fires of the dissidents, the rebellions against the monarchy of Tethyr coming to fruition. Trying to escape back the way they had fled would be suicide- this was their last route. She felt her mother's hand pulling her towards the hole, the portal- she tugged in reply, trying to hold back, fear overtaking her small body, but it was no use. She heard herself scream as the two of them hit the open air-_

Once again, the world hazed in and out of view, like looking through a pool of water...

_Strange men and women, surrounding her. She could feel her small frame tightly enwrapped in furs and blankets, while her arms and legs curled up and tried to bring some kind of stability to the world that had been rent asunder before her eyes. One of the men took a step towards her- she pushed herself back into the tree she had been leaning against, feeling the bark dig through her clothes into her skin. It didn't bother her as much as she thought it might have- and with nowhere else to go, she simply remained still and listened as the man knelt and spoke to her. Spoke of nature, and the balance. Spoke of things she knew well- not then, but would, in the future. Spoke of precepts she would hold dear to her heart, and for principles that she would eventually lay down her life to protect. A question was posed to her. Did she want it? Vengeance, for the innocence she had lost that night? Vengeance, for the death of that woman in her mind's eye, that woman with the smile that had lied to her? Vengeance, for the ones who would lay waste to others like her?_

The answer had been 'yes,' of course. She knew the story well, though it had been some time since she had thought about it in such detail. The last time she had recounted this tale was to one of her companions, her new lover-

_A breeze ruffled her hair, and she felt the mane she had let grow float gently in the wind. Her eyes were closed, and all her senses were stretched out to the world around her. The scent of pine filled her nostrils, as did the faint touch of leather from the armor she wore. The light caress of soft blades of grass upon her naked feet as she stood amidst nature. The breath of fall's chill that caused slight goosebumps to rise on her arms. A bird's song drifting over the air. Nature, the world in balance. For a brief moment, she felt herself drifting slowly out of mind and body, completely at peace. _

_A harsh, unnatural sound entered her ears- footfalls in sequence, six in all. Coming this way, towards her in rapid succession. She felt her body tense, and her clarity vanish- no. That was not the way. She needed to be at peace, calm. She forced herself to focus again, to ignore the rapid breach of her sanctity. Forced herself to slip back into the trance of nature that she had been enraptured by mere seconds ago. Couldn't force it, it just had to happen... and in a moment, she felt it all. The smooth shaft of wood that filled one of her hands, the weight of the staff as she balanced it at arm's length from her body. She heard the sharp inhalation as a presence behind her prepared to strike. Could smell the fresh oil on a clean blade that swung towards her. And with a flashing open of her keen, sharp eyes, saw the glimmer of light off metallic armor before her. _

Why was she seeing all of this again? Memories of her childhood, of her teenage years, she knew these times and places well. Did she enjoy thinking about them? No, it was hard enough for her to dwell on the past, much less relive it. With a roar of light and power, images flashed by in a blur...

_Leaving her new family in the grove to seek out a new life. Foraging, surviving on her own for the first time in so long, leading a solitary existence for nearly two years. Sweaty and covered in gnoll blood, watching in disbelief as the battle that might have proven her last was broken up by men who would shape her life forever, men she would fight alongside, trust with her life... and one in particular who would betray her trust in the end. Sharing a first kiss with a nervous half-elf, hungry for this bond, this feeling of comfort and safety that she felt in his arms. Sharing her life with Khalid as they wed- an old wizard they would lose far too early applauding in the front row of their ceremony, a teacher and mentor who would try to kill her years from then smiling with pride. Watching Greywulf and Imoen stumble into the Friendly Arm Inn, the young duo scared, frightened... all too much like her on her first venture from home. Watching with both wariness and fear as Greywulf raged at them, all of them, upon discovery of his heritage... and his discovery that Khalid and Jaheira had known of it all along. Feeling her arms wrap around her knees as she lay in a cold, dark cell... her mind screaming at her in impotent fear and rage for letting herself be put into this kind of situation again. Watching as her world fell apart around her- those she had trusted betraying her... and the boy she had met and trained for so long, finding a way past her defenses and into her heart. _

Even as the world continued its uncontrolled spin through her past, she felt a tug, an anchoring slow the march. It was a familiar presence, but she felt herself being swept away regardless. Only one chance to try and slow her descent- and she took it. Her mind hardened, her spirit gelled, and in a sea of inky nothingness, she could feel her body and soul reform, reaching out to the presence she had felt for- and in a light that blazed through the shadows, she saw a familiar face. _"Jaheira!!"_

The soft elven features, the large blue eyes... Aerie's smile brightened up the corners of her broken mind as she extended her hand, tightening her grip around Jaheira's wrist. _"It's time to come back to us..."_

X X X X X X

Minsc watched in both worry and hope as Aerie leaned over Jaheira's body, her brow knit in heavy concentration, the elven cleric pushing her healing powers to their fullest extent. Without warning, both Aerie and Jaheira's eyes flashed open, the druid inhaling sharply, coughing as she tried to sit up, tried to handle the onrush of senses that were coming in all at once. Minsc leapt to his feet, hefting Aerie off the ground as he spun her around in joy. "HaHA! Minsc's witch has done the impossible yet again!! Jaheira is safe at last, and Imoen will soon follow. Is this not a day of celebration, Boo? Yes, he thinks it is."

Aerie squeaked out something as she dangled from Minsc's grip, the big ranger's eyes widening as he heard her and set her down gently. "Ah... forgive me. I get excited too easily, but how could I not, eh?"

"Nothing dampens your spirits, does it Minsc?" Jaheira managed as she sat up, managing a half-smile as she swung her legs out from the wooden bedframe. "Aerie... thank you for healing me. I do not know what kind of pain or injury I had suffered, but..."

"The Implosion spell you cast was too much of a strain on your mind." Aerie informed her gently. "Your spirit- I don't think it could handle the stress of such a large use of magical energies."

The memory of what had happened came crashing back to the half-elf like a tidal wave- her eyes regained their focus, the sense of weakness that had been emanating from her since she had woken up somehow vanished. To any casual observer, it would seem that her injuries had suddenly vanished without a trace. "What happened? Did the others escape? Is Yaga-Shura's heart in our possession?"

Unfortunately for her, the others were anything but casual observers. Minsc gently took Jaheira's legs and lifted them back up onto the couch and pushed her by the shoulders until she was lying prone on the bed. "You are not ready to be up and about so soon. Get some more rest, and we will wake you when there is butt-kicking to be done."

Jaheira's vicious glare was anything but subtle- "I *hate* it when you do that, and you know it. But if it will keep you from circling me like a hawk, I shall lie here while you explain our circumstances. Now what happened?"

Aerie recounted the final moments of their battle at Yaga-Shura's Temple... stopping just before Greywulf's emergence from the Temple as the Slayer. In all their excitement to see the druid back to health and conscious thought, they had neglected to think of what their erstwhile friend and leader was doing. He had still remained secluded in the challenge room, even after Sarevok had descended to speak with him. The big warrior had said nothing to them since returning to the surface platform, and neither Minsc nor Aerie had been in the mood to go and question him. What he had done, what his response would be when questioned about his last transformation still remained to be seen.

"And?" Jaheira prodded, her sharp eyes flitting back and forth between Minsc and Aerie's suddenly grave faces as they hesitated before finishing the tale. "Did something happen to Imoen and Greywulf? Are they all right?"

Now it came down to the wire for the two of them... did they tell Jaheira what they had seen, what Greywulf had done? He had saved Imoen and himself thanks to the power of Bhaal, but was it worth it, in the end? Was that even a decision they were qualified to make? He hadn't spoken to anyone about it yet... and until he did, perhaps they couldn't either. Aerie tightened her lips and gestured towards Imoen's prone body across from Jaheira's, the young thief's chest rising and falling steadily. "Imoen was badly injured in the escape... and Greywulf has been blaming himself, I think. He's been secluded in the challenge room since we got back."

It wasn't a lie, per se... but there would still be hell to pay when she found out what had really happened. The two of them both knew it- but for the time, Jaheira seemed to accept this version of events. She lay back down, snorting quietly. "That boy's compassion will drive him to an early grave. Wake me in another hour- I will help you with Imoen's injuries, and perhaps get that whelp to stop blaming himself."

The ranger and the cleric watched Jaheira's breaths become slower, more regular until they were sure she had drifted back to sleep again, before striding from her side, speaking in hushed tones to one another. "Minsc does not like lying to his friends. Should we have told her about Greywulf?"

"I... I don't know, Minsc." Aerie shivered, glancing between the two women still unconscious, and their final companion, still skulking alone in the shadows of the Pocket Plane. "Greywulf deserves a chance to explain himself. And it had better be a good one, that's all."

"Is that so?"

The voice gave them a bit of a start, both whirling towards the entrance to the lower caverns as Greywulf stalked up the staircase, a lopsided smile on his face. He rested on his quarterstaff as he faced his two companions, giving them each a friendly nod. "I understand there are a few questions you have for me, about my little... transformation back there in the mountains. I understand your concerns... it's what I've been wrestling with for the last day or so. I'm here now to answer any questions you most certainly have for me. I know you've been waiting long enough for me..."

"While you left Imoen and Jaheira up here injured and only Minsc and I to deal with it." Aerie reminded, her blue eyes flashing with irritation at the seemingly unflappable calm that Greywulf was showing.

"I had every faith that you could handle their injuries." Greywulf responded, a slight quirk at the corner of his lips somehow failing to comfort them. "What would I have done? Stalked back and forth in a panic, distracting you from helping them? We've been over this kind of situation before- no... it was better for everyone involved that I stayed away, at least until I could come to terms with what happened."

"And... what did happen?" Minsc asked, peering down at the half-elf, his arms folded with nonchalance. "Because Boo still wishes to know why you turned into the thing you promised you would not turn into."

"It's simple... I had to make a choice. I could have left Imoen to die in that Temple or I could have used my powers to save us. I took the only choice I had." Greywulf replied calmly. "Think about it- if we had died, what would have become of Saradush? Of all the other towns destined to be trampled by Yaga-Shura's armies? It wasn't ideal, I know that. Maybe I did break my promise. But I see now... it's a promise I couldn't-shouldn't- have made."

"I guess... I guess that makes sense." Aerie said slowly, unsure of herself as she felt her anger falter in the face of such simple, basic logic. "It does make sense, doesn't it?"

The question wasn't a rhetorical one, and Greywulf could hear it her tone. He smiled, comforting and easy, and nodded. "Listen to me- I get what you're feeling, and I've had to make my peace with it. You should too. When Imoen and Jaheira wake up, I'll... tell them what they need to know."

"About your transformation?" Minsc clarified.

Greywulf hesitated a moment before answering. "Yes. Yes, I'll tell them. They deserve to know, after all. Listen, please... I understand that what I've done... what's happening to me, and Imoen, and this whole entire mess with the Bhaalspawn is troubling to you, and you're worried for me, about me. I do understand, truly I do. And please realize that I might make choices that seem questionable, it's all for the greater good. My goal is and has always been the same, to put an end to this bloodshed and to rid myself of this taint. And if I start slipping... that's why you guys are here with me, isn't it?"

Aerie nodded, his words finally, at last, calming her spirit. "You're right... I'm sorry I doubted you. I just-"

"You were worried. I understand." he smiled gently, and then nodded firmly to Minsc. "Like you said earlier, this should be a time for celebration. Let's get the others up and moving again and we can finally put an end to Yaga-Shura's army. I've been talking with Cespenar-"

"Hello!" the aforementioned imp popped into existence beside Greywulf, nodding furiously as he fluttered above the ground, his head swinging back and forth between Aerie and Minsc. "Cespenar be good servant, oh yes!"

"And one of his recipes might come in handy." Greywulf finished dryly. "We'll need Imoen up for this though. Come on, let's go see if we can't get her back on her feet."

Aerie nodded and began following the others back, before pausing a moment, noting something just ever so slightly out of place. How had Greywulf overheard her and Minsc's conversation with Jaheira? And for that matter, Sarevok hadn't spoken a word since he had emerged from approaching his brother- even now, he simply waited at the far end of the Pocket Plane, watching, those golden eyes unblinking in the darkness. What had they said to one another? All this and more, gnawed at her confidence as they returned to the two unconscious women.

X X X X X X

Billows of wind whistled through the fortress of Amkethran, kicking up dust and the desert sands alike. When the winds grew loud and high enough, it was enough to sting the flesh of any who dared walk through the parched lands. For the monks who made their homes inside the desert fortress, they were sheltered for the most part from any hint of that sting, even when the winds blew with all the fury it could muster.

One such furious maelstrom encompassed Amkethran at the moment, as villagers and townsfolk of the settlement rushed to make shelter inside their homes, seeking refuge from the sandstorm that buffeted their town. No sane man would dare risk himself outside at a time such as this. Given enough time exposed to the full fury of a sandstorm, the desert could blind a man. Still, if one sought a time to perform deeds under the cover of secrecy, there could be no better. Only fools would be caught wandering the city at a time like this, or those with enough guts and gall to carry out their actions in such weather. For one man, this was a time like no other... they would not suspect his movements; their spies would not catch his steps. Cloaked and hooded, his face covered with wraps to shield himself from the gusting desert sand, he trekked through the streets, holding his robes tight as he pushed against the gale force. He glanced upward for a half second, then shut his eyes tight and kept trudging. In that brief second of near impossible visibility, he had found what he suspected- the spies that would normally be situated atop the roofs and through the windows of the clay and mud brick homes were absent, seeking shelter as well. Good.

There- the house he sought. A completely unassuming home, the only defining characteristic being the small, barely noticeable vents situated around the edges of the building. Hard enough to spot if you even knew they were there. Even if you did see them, it would be nearly impossible to tell what they were for. He pushed closer to the house, and slipped inside quietly, his hands nearly numb with the small motion of exposing them to the desert sands when he pushed the portal open. After sliding the door closed, he unwrapped his face and unhooded himself, breathing deeply. The warm, humid air had never tasted so good- he wiped sweat and dust from his brow, then strode to the trap door concealed beneath a meager dining room table.

The further he descended the rickety wooden stairs, the hotter it got- it was nearly unbearable by the time he got to the bottom, but the resident seemed not to mind or notice. A dwarf turned to face him as he descended, bowing low such that his beard brushed the rocky floor. "Master Balthazar, 'tis a pleasure as always. How may I serve ye this day?"

"Merely an update on your progress, that's all." the monk replied brusquely, forcing himself to push aside the physical discomfort. Coming to Gerethor's forge was always a test for him, one he almost looked forward to. Could he put aside the boundaries of physical pain and force himself to see things from without, rather than within? He smiled, breathing evenly as the dwarf moved away from the forge he had been working on, then led his master on to the different parts of his forge. The heat was no better or worse throughout the rest of the underground forge- the only thing keeping the upstairs livable were the vents he had noted before- without them the main living quarters would be noted almost immediately as something more than they appeared. And that was unacceptable- he had taken great pains to keep this particular place secret from the rest of the Five.

Their spies were no doubt watching him as often as possible, just as his spies were keeping tabs on Abazigal, Sendai and Yaga-Shura. They would be fools not to do the same. And just as he was certain they had operations and stockpiles of power he had no knowledge of, he had done his best to keep this particular place a secret from them. Here, his master smith Gerethor worked metals and powers in solace that would put any other craftsman to shame. He stepped into a hall of weaponry that the master smithy had created, lines of blades and bows and armor that gleamed with magic and power beyond compare. "I've done as ye asked, me Lord. Every piece here be of the highest quality- no other will have this kind of power at their disposal."

Balthazar did not answer for a moment, instead nodding with seeming approval as he inspected each piece of work. Picking up a gleaming blade in one hand, he raised his other into a hardened fist, then released the sword as he struck. His fist impacted the flat of the blade and for a moment, he felt the very structure of the sword warp around his hand- before it bounced off, striking the stone wall and clattering to the floor. The dwarf arched an eyebrow and smiled at the quality of his work, while Balthazar nodded approvingly. He picked up the sword and placed it back upon its holding case, then examined the rest of the hall.

"Most of the armor be enchanted for speed, just like ye requested. The swords are strong enough to stand up to a blow from any of yer monks as ye just proved, or even one of them fire giants. And each belt and girdle will grant the wearer immunity to all the elements... poison, fire, and electricity in particular."

"Excellent." Balthazar spoke. "More mercenaries arrive in Amkethran by the day. Armed with these creations of yours, they will serve as an excellent vanguard for my own monks when it comes to open war."

The dwarf glanced at his master, and Balthazar smiled, noting the look he had been given. "You note my assurance that it will come to open war. It shall, make no mistake. The rest of the Five know full well that I do not share their goals. And they know full well that each of them would rather die than share the power they have agreed to split. Even our so called benefactor Mellissan... she is not all she seems, either. Why settle for the role of advisor to the five most powerful demigods when she could be so much more? I do not know what she plans, but I shall be ready for her when it happens. I will be ready for all of them."

"As you command, me lord." the dwarf nodded. "I'll have another dozen suits of armor and blades made for ye afore the week be ended."

"Very good." Balthazar nodded as their path looped around taking them back toward the main forge. They passed a large construct, in pieces and unfinished, but enough to draw the attention of the monk. "Master Gerethor- I do not recognize that among my requests. Pray tell, what is that... big metal unit?"

"Ah, that? 'Tis... tis nothing, me lord. Just a pet project I be undertaking in my free time, which I admit is rather slim of late. A suit of metal that would grant the wearer strength like that of an adamantium golem, and the power of a wizard at his fingertips! T'as never worked. I be missing some key parts... metals I canna' seem to find. As it stands, ye'd gain just as much protection from wearing golden pantaloons, har har!"

Balthazar considered the suit for a moment longer, then proceeded back towards the forge- he stopped in his tracks, the dwarf craning his neck up to see his master, frozen in the moment. "Me lord... is everything all right?"

"Leave me. Now." Balthazar said suddenly, his tone brooking no argument. The monk's eyes flashed black as the intense buzzing, the pressure in his skull threatened to blossom into something more. He barely saw his dwarven servant scurry off as the spell that allowed contact between he and the rest of the Five activated, sweeping his presence onto a plane of reality far higher than the simple forge his body found itself in.

Spinning in a world of stars and space, Balthazar found himself face to face with the giant Yaga-Shura, the humanoid's orange beard and eyes like fire in the darkness. "Balthazar!!! You have lied to me! The wards of Gorion were not in Saradush- I have rent the city stone from stone and found no trace of them!!"

"And you blame me for this?" Balthazar replied calmly, unfazed by the ire of the astral projection he spoke with. "Perhaps you should take up your grievance with Mellissan. It was she, after all, who told you that they were trapped within. Are you certain they did not simply evade your net? They are not to be underestimated, as I told both you and Illasera. That they killed her should have given you sufficient pause in seeking them out so eagerly."

"Bah!! They are nothing compared to Yaga-Shura! Or have you forgotten, little monk, that I cannot be killed!" the giant laughed, spittle flying from his mouth and into his beard. "I need fear nobody! I need no army! I could annihilate the rest of the Bhaalspawn myself!"

"Do you think I miss the threat of your words? Have a care, and keep your pride in check, Yaga-Shura." Balthazar warned, his own tone darkening as he prepared to cut the link that joined them. "You might be immortal- but there are other ways to stop one such as you without killing them. You would be surprised what amount of pain the body can endure. Turn your wrath towards finding the wards of Gorion and ending their threat. Until they are dead, none of us are safe. Including you."

The image of Yaga-Shura's infuriated features vanished, leaving Balthazar to return to his physical form, considering the warnings and words of his so-called partner. The wards of Gorion had escaped the net of Saradush... interesting. Perhaps they were stronger... and could be of more use than he had originally thought. He would need to speak with Mellissan again.

X X X X X X

A slight ring of laughter erupted within the open air of the Pocket Plane, a rare occurrence in these days, it seemed. But at long last, those who had been injured unto death in their last battle were on their feet again, free from death's embrace. Imoen was sitting up with Aerie and Minsc by her side, the girl making jokes and describing her descent down the stairs of the Temple in comedically over-blown terms. Cespenar was working hard on the plan that Greywulf had concocted and shared with the group after all of them had awoken- and to nobody's surprise, it was crazy, downright stupid, and would probably result in one of them getting seriously injured. Having said that, it made perfect sense. One after another, Cespenar carefully crafted the arrows of detonation Greywulf had requested of him... and finishing each one, he set them down gently. Very gently.

Off to the side, Greywulf and Jaheira had left the group so that they could speak- at first Jaheira had thought it simply an effort to reassure himself that she was safe, that he had not lost her. But as he strayed around the topic at hand, never quite allowing himself to meet her eyes, her senses told her that something else was bothering him. She reached out her hand and forced him to look at her, shaking her head gently. "You have something weighing on your mind. I know that look, and I would have you simply say it and be done with it. Surely we have kept enough secrets from one another in the past?"

"I agree." Greywulf nodded, exhaling deeply. "It's about what happened when you were unconscious... when I rescued Imoen. How much did Minsc and Aerie tell you?"

"They told me the whole story... that you escaped the collapsing Temple with Imoen. It nearly killed you had you not been quick enough to avoid its destruction." Jaheira frowned. "I... the look you give me tells me that there is more to the story than I have heard. What is it you wish to say?"

He paused for a moment, then pushed aside all doubt, all hesitation. "I didn't escape. Not alone, anyway. There was a chasm... too great for me to cross as it stood. Imoen and I were going to die down there, and Yaga-Shura's heart would have been lost. We were out of options, and we had seconds to live. I did the only thing I could and became the Slayer to save us. That's what they didn't tell you."

He paused a moment, taking in her stricken look before continuing. "Like you said, no secrets. I'm telling you now because I trust you, and because I know you'll see what I saw... what I had to see in myself after this was all through. That despite what Sarevok may think, and despite everything the taint inside me wants me to believe... I'm not going to fall. I refuse to allow the Slayer to control me. I'm going to beat this thing with you at my side."

She was taken aback- not at his words, but at how utterly... confident he was. There was none of the uncertainty, the hopeful but unsure tone to his voice he had demonstrated when talking about the taint's influence in his life previously. She looked into his eyes and could see that... he truly believed everything he was saying. He had made her a promise, back in the lands surrounding Athkatla. She'd demanded it of him, when his soul was gone. That he would put his soul first- that if he couldn't promise to hold his own purity above their relationship, then it had to end. But this... this wasn't about them. It was about him using the power... and refusing to be corrupted by it. It was about him being more confident and in control than he had ever been before. She studied his face a moment longer, then leaned in gently and brushed his cheek with her lips. "I trust you, Greywulf. And I believe in you. I am glad you were willing to tell me this so readily- and I do not know where your newfound confidence comes from, but I welcome it. I can only hope you are able to face the rest of our troubles with a similar strength of will."

"Believe me, I'm going to." he smiled. "I think there's one we need to deal with right now, in fact."

She laughed in disbelief, folding her arms and letting a smirk cross her face at his manner. So unflinching, so unworried. "Very well. Speak, and I shall listen."

"Jaheira, I care deeply for you. You know that, and I have never doubted it in my heart." he began, before continuing, his smile shrinking to a thin, grim line. "I need to know if our relationship is the healthiest thing for you. If us... us being engaged, is what you really want."

She inhaled sharply- so this was it. He'd called her doubts out into the light, no warning, no hesitation. He *was* different. "I... I suppose it was inevitable that we would have this talk. Perhaps it should have happened earlier, but there just never seemed to be- no, there was time, I simply did not want to risk my thoughts, risk you hearing them and thinking less of me for them."

"Less of you?" Greywulf shook his head with disbelief and clasped her hands in his. "You are the strongest, bravest woman I have ever met. How could I think less of you after everything you and I have been through together?"

"I was afraid." she said slowly. "I love you, of that there is no doubt in my mind. But wedding one another- to commit to such a relationship... if we are to be wed, I need to know that you and I will be with one another for the rest of our days. I need to know that I will not lose you as I lost... as I lost Khalid. And then that spectre came and said such things..."

"Is it too soon, Jaheira?" Greywulf asked, no hint of accusation in his voice, only calm and curiosity. "Those wraiths did a number on all of us, but I know how hard you took it... I want to know if you think our relationship is a good thing, or if you feel guilty for what we've done... what we've shared."

"Greywulf, I...I.... without a doubt in my mind, I say to you that I am not sorry for a moment we have been together. I have many regrets in my life, but you are not one of them." Jaheira said, forcing herself to be firm, refusing to budge to the doubts that crept to her mind. "And I understand that I have been unfair to you about our engagement- your newfound manner eases my thoughts and worries. You are foremost in my life now. Shadows cannot change that."

Embraced in shadow, Sarevok watched the two of them, specifically the druidess. How taken she was with his new confidence, his new strength of will. How easily taken they all were. Only he knew the source... the real reason why he was no longer so conflicted, so unsure of himself. He had yet to see it for himself, but he knew the truth. It was everything he could have hoped for...and only time would tell how long it would be until the others saw the darkness growing within their friend.


	23. Part 1: Confrontation

Funny, how first impressions never seemed to fade. Not entirely. Like the first time tasting a new dish of food, if that first time was slightly off... or if some of the ingredients were mixed wrong... it didn't matter how good it might be every time afterwards, that first impression always clung tightly in the mind. It applied to nearly everything. Certain places still gave Aerie the creeps. Cages made her cringe, even after all the time she'd spent in the circus, surrounded by them. Bonesaws made her flinch whenever she saw them; the sounds of them cutting through tissue and bones and ligaments made her queasy inside.

Still, for all the bad first impressions she had, the ones that could make her gag or turn away in revulsion, there remained those that brought back memories of happier times- or at least simpler ones. Like the sight of cloud-draped mountaintops against a blue, sunny sky. Or majestic wings giving flight to an eagle, or a hawk, letting them soar effortlessly, riding the winds and the skies like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like looking down upon the world from on high gave them some kind of wisdom, some kind of knowledge that those poor land-locked souls would never know. For a time, it was true; those memories had made her bitter, made her weak. She'd overcome that for some time now- she'd turned those memories back to what they should always have been... a source of strength, of hope that she might one day have that confidence, that wisdom from on high while still down below.

But those first impressions... funny how they endured. Or those feelings that one got in the presence of certain people. Even after all the time they'd known one another, fought alongside each other, she still couldn't completely shake the sense of falling short, that faint hint of... inadequacy, she supposed was the right word. The feeling that she could never quite measure up to the exacting standards that Jaheira set for not only herself, but everyone around her. Just old memories, of course. They'd come to a working relationship, and while it was never warm, gone was the constant bickering and sniping that served only to distract and proved a disservice to them both.

Out of all that, they had a bond. And despite how Jaheira could still sometimes make her feel three inches tall with just a glare, she intended to follow through with it. Especially in light of what had happened- of just how much Aerie knew of Jaheira, now. Those memories that had flashed before the druid's eyes, as Aerie attempted to reform her mind, to bring her back from the psychic hole she'd collapsed into... Aerie had lain witness to them as well. She knew more of Jaheira than perhaps the woman would have ever allowed her to know... and it was a trust that while not freely given, Aerie intended to strive to live up to.

The sound of various preparations filled the Pocket Plane- whether unconsciously or not, Greywulf had filtered out the moans, the echoes and wails of tormented souls from the overvoid that surrounded this hellish plane. The only sound was that of a wind, a breeze never ending and bringing a chill in its wake. Greywulf was occupied with Cespenar at the moment, inspecting the weaponry that the little imp butler had crafted for their mission against Yaga-Shura... Aerie felt a small shiver go down her spine as she looked at the arrows that Greywulf was letting roll back and forth in his hands- she'd never felt comfortable around those particular missiles. Not after she'd seen one impact a hobgoblin and felt the chunks of flesh come raining down. Regardless, he was occupied, which gave her the opportunity of sorts she was looking for... as odd as it was, she didn't want him overhearing what she had to say to Jaheira. Not yet, anyway.

Jaheira brushed a stray lock of hair behind her pointed ear, frowning as she noted a loose strap on her pack. She grunted slightly, tightening it to her approval. She pulled on both leather cords, feeling for any sign of give or loosening in the straps that would bind the pack to her. No movement... perfect. The druid planted her hands on her hips and straightened up, craning her neck and feeling joints pop, tension and stress slowly draining away. A quick exhalation of air and she felt her senses flood, her body return to the sense of peace she needed before battle. And in that peace, she sensed a presence- Aerie.

The elven maiden seemed to slide over the ground, her robes covering her feet as she slid to within a few yards of her companion- she never felt comfortable getting much closer. It was always easier to wait for the strong-willed woman to initiate the conversation. She was much more a follower- in both battle and in their talks. No longer because she had to be- not like it had been when they first met. Now it was because she chose to submit to her companion... letting the voice of experience take lead for her.

"Aerie. I am glad you came to me- I wished to speak with you before we left."

The Avariel paused a moment as Jaheira turned to face her- the woman's expression was neutral, but rarely did they ever engage in small talk. Rather, if Jaheira wanted to talk with her, there was a definite purpose, a reason behind it. She would never simply... chat, like Aerie and Imoen were so fond of. Then again, Aerie could never imagine the two of them in a pillow fight either. "I was hoping to talk to you as well... but I suppose your reasons are probably more important. What is it?"

Jaheira arched an eyebrow, letting a faint smile tug at her lips. "You needn't be so meek with me still. It does not become you. But ah- it appears that I am still willing to tell you what does and does not suit you. Perhaps neither of us has changed as much as we might wish to believe. Regardless, I wish to speak with you about what transpired with Greywulf, back when I was unconscious."

Aerie shifted her weight from one foot to another; this was partly the topic she'd come to speak with Jaheira about in the first place. Was the druid noticing the same things she was seeing? It would make what she had to say much easier- "When you brought me from my... illness, I asked you about what happened in the Temple." Jaheira's eyes narrowed just slightly. "You conveniently neglected to mention anything of Greywulf's transformation into the Slayer again."

The words weren't really any sort of question... it was almost an accusation. What did she want Aerie to say? For a moment, there was nothing between them but an awkward silence, only punctuated briefly by a few chirps and words exchanged between Cespenar and Greywulf from across the rocky platform.

"I did what I thought was right at the time." Aerie said, carefully considering her words, her soft tones comforting whether she intended it or not. "It was not my place to speak of his decision... after speaking with him, both Minsc and I thought it best to let him tell you himself. Were we wrong?"

Jaheira didn't answer right away- but it only took her a moment to nod, respect in her eyes, and a relief to the girl under her gaze. "No... perhaps not. I feel as though you did not make this decision lightly, and I admit, it is probably for the best that he was allowed to tell me himself. I might have... overreacted, had I heard the news from you or Minsc. But taken from him... yes, perhaps it was better this way. I suppose I should thank you for allowing him that."

Aerie frowned- she sounded far too relaxed... was she even worried about what had happened? "You don't sound too concerned with what he did..." Aerie said cautiously, knowing that their relationship was one that both Jaheira and Greywulf would defend fiercely, after everything it had been put through. "I'm... I'm not certain everything is as it should be with Greywulf. That's why I wanted to talk to you. He has seemed... different to me. Talking to him, even watching him and the way he reacts to danger, to us, to Sarevok. As though he is no longer concerned with the taint that threatens him-"

"Is that so?" Jaheira's large green eyes flashed a warning, and Aerie knew she was treading lightly. Still, she had gone further than she anticipated before the druid had cut her off. Small victories... "And I assume you have some sort of evidence of Greywulf's misdoings, some kind of recollection you might share with me that will prove your point?"

"I... well-" Aerie hesitated- this was a problem. There was no real 'moment' she could point to and say that this was when she'd begun finding fault with the nonchalance, the confidence in which he conducted himself. Perhaps it had been after emerging from the empty challenge room... but she had seen and heard nothing of what had gone on inside. Nothing that would satisfy Jaheira's questions.

"Nothing? Hmph. So you would come to me with this without any evidence that would give you cause to question his loyalty and commitment."

"I never questioned his loyalty or com-" Aerie tried to begin, but Jaheira cut her off a second time.

"Haven't you? What you have told me is that you believe he is faltering in the very ideal he has set himself upon ever since learning of his accursed parentage. That he has, in your words, stopped being concerned with the very thing he has nearly given his life to fight many times over. And yet I still wait for your proofs, your reasoning behind this. Surely you have trained yourself to find truths hidden by others, to detect the lies that others set upon you. Surely this is not all some hunch you feel inside, a manifestation of your fears, is it?"

The withering barrage of both smug self-assurance and the almost military-grade strip-down she'd just received was enough to make her question the fears she'd held a few moments ago... perhaps she was simply overreacting. Perhaps there was nothing to be concerned about. After all, there was nobody closer to Greywulf, bar Imoen perhaps, and if neither Jaheira nor the pink-haired rogue could detect what Aerie was feeling, then maybe it was she who was wrong.

That would be much easier to accept. Because the truth in her gut told her something much worse. It told her that Jaheira and Imoen were too close. They loved him too much in their own ways, were far too close to him to see what was slowly changing about their lover and brother. The sinking feeling only grew worse when considering that should she voice this same concern to Imoen, she'd probably receive much the same response. Disguised a different way perhaps, cloaked in humor and playful reproval rather than sarcasm and lecturing tones, but it would be the same denial. That left only Minsc and Sarevok as her other avenues of aid... Sarevok? He had spoken with Greywulf when he had sequestered himself away...

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jaheira, who took her long silence as either penitence or acceptance. Surprisingly, her expression softened at the edges, a shift that many who did not know her would never have caught. "I thought so. Aerie... I appreciate you looking out for Greywulf. His is a dangerous road, and he will need support from all of us if he is to remain true. Questioning his every decision, even those with dangerous repercussions such as changing into the Slayer, will only make him doubt himself. He has proven to me that he has control, and I will not throw his confidence further into disarray. Nor will I allow you to do so either."

Aerie considered what she had seen in Jaheira's memories, what she had relived from the woman's mind when they had been linked. She knew just how much guilt Jaheira bore for abandoning her trust in Greywulf because of the Harpers, because of the deception she'd been put through when their relationship was still blossoming. That sense of guilt was causing her to under-react- in trying to keep from making the same mistake twice, she was ready to make a brand new one.

Aerie exhaled deeply, knowing that she would get no further down this path. "Very well. I will not bother you again until I have proof of what I fear. I hope you are right, Jaheira."

The druid watched with slightly narrowed eyes as Aerie turned and walked away... leaving only tiny seedlings of doubt in Jaheira's mind as she turned to focus on Greywulf.

Aerie continued her stride across the rocky plateau, focusing on her next target. This... would be much more difficult. Sarevok's gear and bedroll were far across the way from the others- it had only taken one or two nights before the Deathbringer had decided it would be easier for everyone involved if he simply gave them a wide berth. He had finished his own preparations far earlier than the others- she wasn't sure if he did it purposefully just to feel superior to the others, or whether it simply freed him up for more brooding time. Regardless, he was leaning against the rocky arches surrounding the edges of the platform, and her approach had been visible from the moment she'd walked away from Jaheira.

His glowing yellow eyes were tracking her the entire time, and she felt her skin crawl as she drew closer. Just talking with him left a bad taste in her mouth... his very presence was an anathema to her. How the others could tolerate him was beyond her. But this time, he might be the only one who could help validate her fears. She held no hope that he might help her in her larger goals, but maybe this small thing...

She closed within a half-dozen yards before he raised a hand, pushing himself off the arch and rising to stand straight, his height allowing him to tower over her. He didn't say anything- of course not. Waiting for her to speak, making sure that she would have to sacrifice her own pride and disgust of him if she wanted his input. She did not back down, but simply let her own elven features harden as much as she could make them. "Sarevok. I need to ask you something."

She deliberately tried to make it not sound like a question, but a demand. He thought so little of her, playing against his perceptions might 'impress' him enough to make him ever-so-slightly cooperative. He did not respond right away, nor did his face shift in any noticeable way. It was as though he hadn't even heard her. She stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated. "I need to know what you saw when you spoke with Greywulf, down in that Challenge Pit. You were the only one who spoke with him before he emerged... what did he say to you?"

Sarevok did not reply for another spell that seemed like an eternity. For a brief moment Aerie feared she would have to ask him a third time, or worse that he would simply ignore her completely. Finally, he spoke, his tone thick with arrogance. "You ask a question you don't want to know the answer to, girl. Let it be, and go back to whatever you think is your life. It matters little in the end."

Aerie paused, then let a smirk drift onto her face. "All right. Now answer me without all that pretentious garbage. What did he say?"

It was clear Sarevok hadn't been expecting that response- his words had been just vague enough, just threatening enough to put off any weak-willed individual, leaving them feeling unsure of themselves, unsure of what they had just heard, and appropriately intimidated by the big warrior. As much as Sarevok hated to admit it... he was somewhat impressed. That didn't mean, of course, he was going to go easy on her. "What are you after, girl? Are you afraid that your precious leader has finally taken one too many looks into that abyss? That he has seen his true face in the Slayer, and won't be able to step away? I think you are. You're petrified that for all the lightness and sugar and cheer you think you can muster to keep him from fulfilling his destiny, that he's going to see you and the others for what you are, what you've always been. Distractions, impediments... you stand in the way of the power he can claim."

On the defensive so quickly- Aerie barely had time to find her voice and reply. "You're wrong about him. That's not what he's after at all. He's nothing like you."

"Isn't he?" Sarevok pushed himself forward with a sneer, leaning in until his face was nearly touching Aerie's. "I'll let you in on a secret, little girl. I'm going to make certain that by the end, Greywulf will claim the Throne of Bhaal for his own. Every step of the way on our journeys, I will be right beside him, whispering in his ear, reminding him of his true destiny, of the power that could be his. I've done so much to guide his path already... and none of you even know it."

"Then I'll tell them all." Aerie declared angrily, her ire rising within. "I'll tell them all what you're doing-"

"Hah!" Sarevok barked a laugh, their gazes still locked upon one another. "Every one of you, my brother included, knew what my plans were when I joined with you. I never hid my ultimate goals from anyone here. You knew my intentions the moment I took my first resurrected breath. There is *nothing* you can do."

Aerie could not hide the look of shock and outrage that blossomed on her face- he was right. She- all of them- knew Sarevok had plans to claim power at Greywulf's side, but this... trying to convert him, to slowly turn him from his friends and everything he believed in... she hadn't seen it coming. None of them had. All they'd seen were his outward boasts and obnoxious taunts. The obvious stuff that Greywulf batted aside with no effort at all. She had not responded by the time Sarevok stepped away, gathered his pack and secured it, then moved to rejoin the others. He paused beside her, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "You've already lost him and you don't even know it. Try and stop me."

X X X X X X

The perils of adventuring were many and varied- it was not a profession for the faint-hearted. At any given moment, one could be struck by the foulest of demons and monsters, or simply rained upon by inclement weather. The day could bring nothing but good fortune and riches beyond the imaginings of a miser, or it could steal anything and everything. It was feast or famine, heaven or hell. Adventurers had to deal with both, sometimes twice a day.

Having accepted that, sometimes it was easy to forget about the little things. In focusing on the beholder queen threatening to destroy the plane of reality, it was easy to miss the splinters from the shaft of a spear. Or in this case, in setting out to recruit Cernd to their cause, Anomen had forgotten that their path would lead them through swamp and marshland to get to the druid grove. He winced as he took another step, his heavy greaves and boots sinking with a 'slorp' as the mud came nearly to the top of his boot- he whispered a silent prayer of thanks- another half-inch and it would've been above the top of his boot, making the rest of the journey decidedly uncomfortable and squishy.

He glanced behind him- Solaufein didn't seem to be the least bit perturbed by the trudging, and Reynald struggled valiantly to avoid looking the least bit inconvenienced- no doubt for Nalia's sake. Anomen let himself smile with a shake of the head- Nalia was a complicated woman, and her rise in power had only furthered that complication. She was beautiful no doubt, but it would take a special kind of man to not only win her heart but be able to keep up with her. If Reynald thought he could do so... Helm's blessing to him. He'd need it. Speaking of Nalia- Anomen grimaced with a hint of jealousy. Her leather boots were glowing a light yellow, hovering just above the surface of the mud and swamp. A personal Glide spell, she had called it. Not one she could extend to the others, and not one she could maintain for more than a few minutes at a time, but enough to get her between the small patches of dry land they found every so often.

A few feet in front of the gliding mage, Solaufein pushed forward again, his muscular legs and calves knifing through the mud, keeping his feet low. It would be more difficult with each step, but faster and more efficient in the end. This druid had best be willing to join them- he would be rather peeved if this particular trek had been for naught. Not that he would allow himself to show that irritation. He was good at hiding emotions- no surprise there, considering his upbringing. Still, it had its advantages here on the surface as well- such as keeping Nalia under close watch without her, or the others, in fact, knowing. Something about her was just rubbing him the wrong way...

"Solaufein? If you would, I wish to speak with you for a moment."

He nearly sighed outright. The gods certainly did have a sense of humor, however perverted it may have been. Still, he kept up his impassive exterior, giving her a slight nod of acknowledgment as she slid beside him. Her features were shadowed in the trees and forest surrounding them, and had it not been for his infravision, he would not have seen the slight up curl at her lips when she spoke. "You seem quiet as of late. Is there something on your mind?"

He spared her a quick shrug, just enough to translate to the heavy armor he was wearing. "Have you ever known me to be the talkative sort?"

Her laughter was high and lilting, echoing through the area, answered only by the chirps of birds and throaty croaks of frogs. "I suppose not. Still, I cannot help but think there is something bothering you. Your manner has seemed distant... cold, even."

Her tone turned questioning and hard abruptly, using her height advantage to look down upon the drow elf with a withering glare that bore the weight of both a powerful mage as well as a noblewoman of Amn. She continued, no longer in the friendly tone she had born before. "Have I done something to offend you? If so, I should like to get it out and dealt with before we progress much further."

"Hnh." Solaufein grunted, refusing to be intimidated by this old acquaintance. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Even if I did, I find your manner somewhat blunt. If you really wish an answer, you might try using tact in the future."

"Is that so?" Nalia replied dryly, letting her expression soften ever so slightly. "My experience with the other wretched nobles of this land has shown me that quick and decisive action is always preferred. But if it pleases you, I'd like to know if I've done something to offend you. Please."

Solaufein glanced up toward the others in their troupe- Anomen trudged on at lead, probably too far to be listening in on their conversation unless all was silent and he was straining his ears, but both were unlikely. Reynald was close enough though- however, he had done nothing to acknowledge that their conversation was even happening thus far. Solaufein had been keeping his voice low as was his usual wont, but Nalia had done nothing to disguise the high pitch in her words. The mage-thief noticed his glances and laughed again. "Do give me some credit. A quick spell to mask our conversation, should it be something you were uncomfortable speaking before the others. I have dealt with far too many secrets and men who valued their privacy to not have learned some methods of tact."

He nodded... she was smarter than he had given her credit for. In fact, she was better all around than he remembered. He would have to reevaluate his methods around her if they remained at odds, however secret it remained. "Very well then. Since you seem to be so well equipped for this particular dialogue, why don't you tell me what you think I'll say." One of the first rules he'd learned when dealing with rivals and politicians in the Underdark- when dealing with someone you didn't know everything about, use them to fill in the blanks you were missing.

"Me? I have no clue, I'm sure." Nalia shrugged, relaxing ever so slightly as her path took her over a raised tree root, where grass and solid dirt provided an island of sorts. She took the opportunity to rest and renew her magics, inhaling deeply as she slowed her gait to step beside Solaufein, continuing on his path without regard for the solid ground nearby. "Only that you came to my Keep seeking aid, and left it on edge, as though you could not wait to leave my presence. Another woman might have taken offense to that… you simply stirred a mystery for me to solve."

He tugged at a particularly sticky piece of ground to unlodge his boot as they continued, Solaufein mentally cataloging Nalia's words. It was true, he'd not been as open or kind to the girl as he might've been before. Not that he had ever been supremely kind or open to anyone, in fact. But he hadn't thought his slight change in attitude would be noticeable. The old Nalia wouldn't have noticed, anyway. Still, he was good at bluffing and thinking on his feet. He fixed his most impassive glare and looked her in the eyes. "You're chasing ghosts. If you sense coldness in our friendship, look to yourself for the chill."

"You think I don't understand why you might feel this way. I do, truly." she pressed, stepping off the island as her Glide spell activated again. Her brow knit and her light brown hair swung to cover half her face as she glanced at him with the other. "I'm not the same girl I was when we first met, nowhere close. I'm no longer naive, no longer idealistic or foolish. I still want to help people, that's never changed... I simply know now what it takes to fight the monsters that exist in this world."

"And just what is that?'

"Power." Nalia said firmly, her voice solid, unwavering in its conviction. "For every paladin or adventurer out there who plays by the rules, there are a dozen sorcerers or death knights who'll do whatever it takes to get their way. If we hold back because of... of some sort of sense of fairness or kindness or if we think that just because we were strong enough this time it'll be enough for the next time, then it's the people who are going to suffer because of it! I've seen my people suffer time and time again because I didn't have what it took to protect them. Because I thought that setting boundaries on what I would and wouldn't do meant that my enemies would do the same."

Her words came with a tone of bitterness, as though these were lessons learned the hard way. Indeed, it was a difficult path, coming to terms that sometimes the end justified the means. It was certainly a lesson he had learned well back in Ust Natha. However, he wasn't convinced... mainly because it was how he had been raised. There was never any question about his philosophy, no learning of the subtleties and how they contrasted with the way he had been behaving previously. No worries that he would take it too far, lose his own purpose. With Nalia... those questions abounded. "I understand what you say... you have never known me to give my opponents any advantage." Solaufein intoned, slipping his hood off to enhance his peripheral vision. They were getting a good ways into the marshes- if the druids maintained any kind of border patrol, they would be coming up on them sometime soon.

"I know it well." Nalia nodded, the sound of... pleading, was it- coming into her voice. Pleading for what? Approval? "And I know I've changed. I know I'm not the same girl I used to be, but I've only ever done what had to be. The world changes and if we don't keep up, we'll get swept behind. That's all I've ever-"

A twig snapped and Solaufein froze, raising a hand as the other went to his sword hilt. Nalia immediately sank into the marshes, dispelling the sound dampener around the two of them with a wave and raising and preparing to release a barrage of energy at the slightest provocation. Anomen's mace was raised, Reynald's shield and sword at guard. As moments ticked by, rustling began echoing through the wood, and a group of three men dressed in furs and leathers emerged from the darkness and mist. A man with face paint and a sharp nose was at lead, his eyes taking each one in turn, before planting his quarterstaff in the mud firmly. "Visitors to our grove are rare these days, and for good reason. Like the wind over the plains, the threat of Murder has overshadowed the lands, and we will not tolerate threats to our people. I am Cernd, and I ask you in the name of Verthan, Grand Druid, what is it you seek here?"

Anomen stepped forward, exhaling with pleasure at finding the one they had sought. He raised a hand in greeting, bowing slightly. "We greet you in the name of the Radiant Heart. My old master was a friend of yours, one Keldorn Firecam. As for what we seek... it is you, Cernd. We have need of your help."

X X X X X X

In the middle of the forest road outside of Saradush, the air was thick with smoke and ash, remnants of the burned city only a few miles down the road. Visibility was poor, and anyone who had lived or plied their trade in the area was long since gone, fled or killed. There was literally nothing left for those who remained, only for the armies of Yaga-Shura, what they could scavenge and take from those who had been trampled underfoot. Still, there always remained survivors, those who would not give up their lives so quickly. Their numbers dwindled, but they existed.

Heart beating like a drum, one such man ran as fast as he could through the forest, branches and twigs leaving painful scratches and marks across his bare arms and face as he pushed his way further and further from Saradush, trying not to look back. He couldn't help it- one glance showed him that two fire giants were still in hot pursuit, stomping behind him without worry or haste, their huge strides keeping up with him easily. They were toying with him- the moment he stopped running they would catch him and slaughter him, only because they could. He swore and kept moving, trying to ignore the burning in his lungs and in the muscles of his legs, knowing that he was literally running for his life.

He turned back to try and divine some path through the wood that would give him shelter, a place to hide, a path they couldn't follow- anything! In a brief second, his prayers were answered. A thunderclap echoed before him and six pillars of light blazed into existence, the heat of their power making him draw back and shield his eyes, watching as the nearby vegetation was singed and set aflame from the power that was coalescing before him. He barely heard the thuds of the approaching giants, spotting the magical disturbance as well. Only when the light had dimmed and he could begin to make out six forms inside the light did he remember where he was and just why he had been running- he looked up and screamed as a war hammer swung into his side, sending him hurtling into a tree, his bones cracking and breaking with the impact.

That scream was the first thing the six adventurers heard as they materialized on the road to Saradush, transported there from the Pocket Plane. Imoen's eyes widened as she saw the poor villager crushed with the attack, the other fire giant gazing down at them, recognition coming to his eyes. "Aha!! It's the Bhaalspawn Yaga-Shura wanted! Kill them all!!"

"Aerie, get to the man they injured. He might be able to tell us something. The rest of you- bring them down." Greywulf ground out as he lowered his frame, preparing to leap out of the way of the oncoming swing- there. He and Jaheira both dived from the oncoming axe swing, their jumps taking them separate directions. Sarevok and Minsc both charged, their blades striking exactly opposite of one another. The giant whose feet had literally been cut from his body screamed in terror and pain as he tumbled down with war hammer in hand, Minsc pausing just enough to let the giant's neck fall into his blade as he slashed outward.

The other giant roared and swept his axe again, the blow aimed at Minsc. Sarevok's form was there instead, the Sword of Chaos blocking the actual attack but the momentum of the swing still sent both men tumbling away. Aerie ignored the heavy thumps and shouts behind her as she slid to a halt beside the broken, dying man, hoping that her magics could hold him to this plane, if only for a few moments longer... but as she worked, she heard the thuds of footsteps behind her, and she glanced upward to see the giant towering over her, axe raised to bisect her. She could either stop treating the mortally wounded man and defend herself, or rely on her friends to come through... and she let herself smile as she kept working, hearing a scream of pain from the giant. A Cone of Cold from Imoen's hands was slowly encasing the giant's feet and calves in ice, immobilizing the giant. His hands and torso were covered in small insects, biting and stinging and swarming as Jaheira let her Insect Swarm loose upon him. His head was crackling with electricity, the bolts of lightning dancing over his eyes and mouth, lighting his skull from within every few seconds as Greywulf maintained a steady stream of lightning from his fingertips.

In moments, the giant tumbled to the ground, head smoking, body red and swollen, and legs cracked and broken. The three magic users exhaled in relief, glancing to make certain that Sarevok and Minsc were rejoining them before coming to Aerie's side, the girl trying desperately to keep the man alive, but failing fast. He looked at them with a trickle of blood from his nose and mouth, his voice faint and hoarse. "D-dead.... all dead. S-s-saradush is gone, he killed them all..."

His head slumped to the side, eyes wide and glassy. The others glanced from his body to the barely visible horizon, where nothing but smoke and ash could be seen in the sky. "We're too late." Imoen whispered, holding herself as a sudden chill filled the thief-mage's slender figure. "We were gone less than a week..."

"It doesn't- can't matter now." Greywulf managed, his tone dark and vengeful. "We will mourn the dead after we kill Yaga-Shura. He's been allowed to roam freely for too long- it ends today."


	24. Part 1: Balancing Act

"All clear?"

The hushed whisper from their half-elf leader didn't stir any response, at least any noticeable one, from Minsc, the ranger's eyes and ears fixed on their surroundings as they waited at the edge of the wood that bordered the smoking ruin of Saradush. So far they had encountered no resistance, no horde of fanatics declaring their loyalty to Yaga-Shura in one breath and spouting murderous threats the next. Barging straight into the camp of their enemy would be nothing short of suicide, and their plan depended on guile, deception, and a bit of misdirection.

"Minsc does not see anything, and Boo cannot smell the stink of our foes inside the city." Minsc murmured, slowly straightening up to his full, imposing height. "We should be safe to use the city as cover to get closer to their camp."

"We should check the ruins for survivors first, before we confront Yaga-Shura." Aerie voiced, glancing about the smoking ruin with concern and pain in her gaze. It was a horrible sight- so much devastation- and for what? Greywulf glanced back at Aerie, pausing a moment as though weighing her suggestion against going after the one responsible for this right away- and after blinking and shaking his head as though clearing the cobwebs away from his brain, he nodded. "You're right. There might still be a few left alive that might have escaped. Split into groups of two- we'll meet on the opposite of the city- the walls overlooking Yaga-Shura's encampment. That's where we'll make our vantage point. Will it be close enough?"

Imoen did not answer right away- she turned from surveying the destruction, then looked back at Greywulf, her ever-present grin and cheer replaced with a hard stare. "It'll be good enough."

He nodded, needing no explanation for her change in demeanor. Not in a situation like this. Here, with so much death and devastation... they knew what they were up against, what kind of atrocities had been committed. The time for jokes and games was through. Still, the others were right- innocents needed to be protected, if there even were any left. The sorcerer gestured down the line with two fingers extended. "Minsc and Aerie, take the chapel. Jaheira and Imoen, take the castle. Sarevok and I will check the inn. If there were any survivors, they would have been bunkered down in those three places. We don't have time for anything more thorough."

The others nodded in agreement, despite any personal reservations they might have had over their searching- while some would have liked to take more time and find those lost and trapped by the devastation Yaga-Shura wrought, others wanted vengeance on the fire giant himself, none questioned their assignment for the moment. Not even Greywulf himself, as he and Sarevok stalked through the rubble, slipping past the blackened pieces of walls and foundations. The Deathbringer behind him used his massive blade to tip over a few pieces of crumbling rock, peering underneath with unhidden impatience. "So, while our enemy waits less than a stone's throw from the castle battlements, we spend our time searching through the debris to find the poor souls unfortunate enough to survive the burning of this place. Tell me brother, do you really expect to find anyone alive in this place?"

Sarevok's sibling did not answer right away, instead continuing forward until they reached what had been the foundations of the tavern- Greywulf knelt and picked up a piece of splintering, charred wood, crumbling in his hands. Looking carefully, the sign of the Tankard Tree could be made out... until it all fell to dust and ash in his hands. Sarevok watched as the half-elf stood, continuing forward and using his quarterstaff to sift through the debris, hoping to uncover one survivor in the ruins. Greywulf's staff hit something solid- he paused, shutting his eyes quickly as he made out the burned, swollen features of the bartender.

"If you did not wish to see it, you should not have searched it out." Sarevok's voice was a snide, self-gratified tone, far too close to his ear. "What did you really think you would find here in this graveyard? A chance for redemption? A hope that you might be able to save yourself from the path you see beneath your feet even now? You will find no solace, no comfort here. Here there is but the dead, an example of the one thing you can use your power for. The one thing you have begun to unlock within yourself."

Greywulf swore and spun to confront the goads of his brother- Sarevok was several yards off, poking through the rubbish as well, though with far less interest or compassion than Greywulf. His blood cooled, confusion dulling his anger. He had been so sure Sarevok was speaking to him- he had heard the voice, right there in his ear. But if not Sarevok... a distant laugh echoed, and Greywulf caught a glimpse of shattered glass beneath his feet. In his reflection, the Slayer flashed a toothy grin before disappearing once again.

"I'm in control." Greywulf whispered to himself, wrapping his cloak tighter, suddenly aware of each and every lifeless body in the ruins surrounding him. The bartender. The pretty waitress Minsc had saved from Gromnir's thug soldiers. The drunkards in the corner, never once sober the entire time they had been in Saradush. All dead, all lifeless... Greywulf tried to ignore the feeling that every one of them was staring at him. "Not the Slayer. Me. I'm controlling its power, not the other way around. I just need... I just need more practice. That's all."

That last statement drew another laugh, this time unmistakable. The tones of the beast he had been attempting to tame mocked him... it was a veritable shock when Sarevok's voice cut in again. "We waste our time here, brother. Yaga-Shura left none alive. We should move on."

"Yes... yes, we should." Greywulf murmured quietly, following his brother as they left what had once been the Tankard Tree, slowly filing towards the western city battlements. "Nothing here at all."

Several hundred yards off, digging through the ruins of the castle, stepping over banners and staircases, Jaheira and Imoen remained silent as they sought for some sign of life, but in vain. No cries for help beneath mountains of rock, no stirring of bodies trapped under stone. Heat still faintly radiated from the fires that had burned the castle to the ground, there at the last. As though the anger and impotent fury of those dwelling within were seeking a release, but would never find one.

Imoen exhaled deeply as she slid aside more debris, trying to quell the nausea, the disgust... and the excitement. Ever since Gromnir's death, ever since she had absorbed a greater portion of the taint, each new battle was a thrill, a drug that left her wanting more at the end. It was like making love, but where the only release was found when she ended someone's life. Just seeing the bodies was enough to make her jittery... and the knowledge of what she was feeling in the midst of such tragedy was sickening. She glanced across the ruins to Jaheira, her bronze features glimmering with sweat and dirt from the exertion of their search. Perhaps this was something she should speak to her about- it could only help. Jaheira had been the closest thing to a mother she had ever known... and despite all their differences, she trusted her words and wisdom in nearly any situation. Not that she listened to it all that often.

But with the nature of the relationship that she and Greywulf had embarked upon... and being fully honest with herself, they had never been 'friends,' at least not in the way she considered Aerie or Minsc to be her friend. She was a mentor, a teacher, a parent figure in a world where her real father was an evil god and her foster one had been killed long ago... no. Telling Jaheira would just make things harder- give the druid one more thing to fret about. She had enough to deal with worrying about Greywulf's ability to stay on the straight and narrow. She could only imagine how Greywulf was coping with this kind of pressure and stress- she'd have to ask him later, once Yaga-Shura had been dealt with. The thought crossed her mind... what if it happened again, when they killed the fire giant? Would his portion of the taint enter them as well? She could barely handle the call of the blood as it stood... what would happen if Yaga-Shura's portion was given to them as well?

Her worries were interrupted as Jaheira whistled quietly, gesturing for the thief-mage to join her. She stumbled over the debris until she got to her side, looking down at what Jaheira had found. Lying before them were several corpses, but one skeleton in particular was dressed in burnt and rotting finery. The skull was crushed but the jaw and teeth were unmistakable in their monstrous nature, as was the ring upon the finger bone. "Count Santele..." Jaheira murmured, planting her spear shaft into the ground beside her. "The vampire Lord makes his triumphant return to the throne of Saradush..."

"And just like everyone else, his reign is cut short by those freaks outside the town." Imoen scowled, letting her gaze rest on the undead corpse for a little longer than she would have liked. "If he and his coven couldn't survive, we aren't going to find anyone else alive. Let's... let's just get moving, before Yaga-Shura and his army figure out we're here, or leave."

"Imoen." Jaheira placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, one pencil-thin eyebrow arching as she gazed into Imoen's eyes, one elven ear twitching. "You seem... distracted. Is everything well?"

Imoen paused for a minute... then shook her head. "I'm fine... just ready to end this."

Tucked against the walls of the city, the chapel was still partially standing, but it did nothing to hide the dead that lay within. Aerie covered her mouth with one slender hand as she despaired of finding any survivors- Sister Farielle lie crushed beneath a piece of collapsed ceiling, her body broken and lifeless, blood staining the ground beneath her. The altar had been smashed and broken by the collapse of the building as well- cabinets in the back lay open, their contents spilling out onto the ground. Vials of holy water were smashed and empty, potions that had been in mid-brew were contaminated and useless, the alchemical ingredients that Farielle had kept scattered to the winds. She'd been keeping the soldiers of the city supplied with as many potions as she could muster, but near the end it was all she could do to keep up with those who lay near death's door.

"Boo hates to say this... but he does not think there will be any left alive in this place." the ranger said quietly, stepping carefully over a piece of crumbling pillar, one of the supports of the structure. "Perhaps we should return to the others-"

A loud crack followed by the sliding of rock and debris echoed from outside the city wall, followed by a curse and the faint echo of someone berating another man. Aerie frowned before realizing the import of what was going on- she gestured to Minsc and the two of them hurriedly moved further back into the building's darkened and collapsed section, the roof slanted and providing a perfect place to hide and watch. They lay there for a few moments longer as the voices grew louder and louder, until the tones were audible, distinguishable. They could only hope that the others would hear the commotion and take notice as well...

"This place will be the death of us if you fools are not more careful. Would that not be the utmost insult- to survive a war spanning all of Faerun only to be crushed beneath a dead city's last, ruinous breaths?"

"Yes sir, it shan't happen again."

"I dare say it shall not. You two are only here so that if by some miracle, there is a last survivor hiding in the ruins, you can bring it to Yaga-Shura so that he may extinguish the spawn's life himself. Otherwise, this is an expedition to gather more materials for my work. The gods know I haven't had any luck procuring more herbs for my work. How am I expected to do quality work for the master if I have no tools?"

Aerie listened, a sense of dread and anger growing within her as she tried to place the voice. So familiar, but the name and face escaped her... as the three men she had heard talking crept into the ruins of the chapel, she finally saw the man at lead in the light. He was short with a hooked nose and spectacles upon his face. Thin, oily hair with unkind, professional features. Aerie's eyes widened and all her emotions vanished as a single, overwhelming thought entered her mind. Him. HIM.

"You!" Aerie shouted, erupting from the back of the chapel with a furious cry. The three men were taken by surprise- the soldiers flanking the Doctor were quick and well-trained. Both had their swords drawn in less than a second. If Aerie had been a warrior charging across the ruined building, they would have been well prepared to meet her advance before she arrived. Unfortunately for them, she was not a warrior. She was a mage and a cleric... and at the moment, completely and totally filled with rage. In less than two seconds, both guards had been reduced to a pile of ash and a charred husk, respectively. The only one left was the Doctor, Yaga-Shura's torturer and information gatherer. Minsc was following behind Aerie, a look of surprise at the cold efficiency with which Aerie had dispatched their opponent, while Aerie stalked towards her prey, his mind only just now telling him to begin running. He spun, trying to bolt- a Power Word Stun echoed through the air freezing him to the spot.

He could do nothing but watch in terror as she spun him around to face her, holding him by the collar with one hand, her other erupting with a Fireball spell, raised high and threatening. There was furious wrath on her face, anger on what were normally such kind, gentle features. "You tortured me in Yaga-Shura's camp, treated me like a slave again! Do you know what kind of things I went through- what you forced me to relive?"

Even if he could've answered, he would not have gotten a chance. Minsc's massive hand dropped on her arm, holding back the hand awash in flame. "Aerie? What are you doing-"

"He was the one who tortured me, Minsc!" Aerie sputtered, pain in her features, only slightly struggling against Minsc's grip. "Let me go- he deserves this!"

Minsc did not relent- the sound of footfalls caused Aerie to finally let up as she glanced around, spotting the rest of their group arriving on the scene, looks of concern amidst one and all, even Sarevok, though his might have been interpreted as curiosity at the sudden change in the normally sweet girl. "What's going on here?" Greywulf paused, looking at the man in her grip. "Who is-"

"The one who tortured us, Aerie and I." Jaheira said coldly, now recognizing him as well. "He liked to hurt people... Aerie is returning the favor, it would seem, though I would not have imagined such an act to be in her nature."

Aerie pulled her gaze from the man and looked up at the others, red, tearing eyes flitting between her friends with a mixture of shame and righteous anger. "He tortured us! Jaheira, you were there- he deserves it-"

"Perhaps... but this is not you, Aerie." Minsc shook his head, slowly releasing her flaming hand. "Still... we were not there. It is your choice..."

Aerie hesitated, the frozen man watching her with sweat trickling down his face... she closed her hand and extinguished the fire, releasing him as he crashed to the ground, unbalanced without her support. "No. I'm not like them. Not like him."

"Agreed." Greywulf said as Aerie stumbled away from him, trying to get her emotions under control. "Minsc and I will question him for a few moments, see if he knows anything about Yaga-Shura's camp. The rest of you should get set up like we planned. I doubt we'll find any survivors... and they might come looking for this one if we wait too long."

Without waiting for a reply, Greywulf grabbed the man by the back of his collar, pulling him along the hard rubble away from the others, Minsc following behind. As soon as they were a good distance from the rest of the others, Greywulf closed his eyes and made the incantations for a dispel, releasing him from the paralysis of Aerie's Power Word. Lying on the ground before the sorcerer and the mage, the Doctor inhaled sharply. "I will tell you nothing! Your tortures are child's play compared to what I have inflicted- you will get nothing from me!"

Greywulf snarled and swung him around, kneeling on his chest with a growl. "You like hurting women, do you? Torturing people? Those are my friends back there. The two girls you tortured- one of them is the woman I love. The other is the witch that my friend here swore to protect with his life. But we don't have time to interrogate you thoroughly, so I'm going to let Minsc do the talking. Minsc, pound him until he tells us something useful."

Before either Minsc or the Doctor could move or say anything, Greywulf made a quick gesture, using arcane gestures to activate a Silence spell. His body had hidden it from view so that Minsc could not see it- the Doctor realized what Greywulf had just done as Minsc picked him up by the collar and raised a fist. Greywulf stepped back and watched- inwardly, he knew he was enjoying it too much- his darker side reveling in the pain of the man before him, but he couldn't bring himself to make it stop. Not yet anyway. The Silence spell would wear off in approximately five minutes. He gave the Doctor less than three before his skull collapsed.

X X X X X X

"No."

Anomen could not hold back a mixture of shock and disbelief from rising to his features as Cernd spoke that simple word, calm and quick, no sorrow and no regrets in his tone. It was a shock in more ways than one- every other time they had spoken the druid's language had been filled with flowery nature analogies, metaphors that wearied the listener but after a time, they sprang naturally from him to the listener. That he was so straightforward, so unapologetic... there was little chance of changing his mind. Anomen held his tongue, not asking the questions, demanding the reconsideration that he might've done in months past. He wasn't a knight yet... but he was getting closer. Keldorn would have been proud, he thought. Keldorn- apparently the relationship between his old mentor and Cernd did not bear as much weight as he might've hoped.

"Cernd... I understand that the grove requires your attention, but surely you understand why I ask." Anomen said after several moments of paused consideration. "We four may not have the strength to achieve our goal in this endeavor- a goal that, I might add, is aimed at restoring the balance as Helm wills it."

Cernd cracked a small smile at that- "Clever, using my own philosophy against me. But my answer remains the same. There is far too much to do here." the four of them followed Cernd away from the private chambers and into the Grand Courtyard overlooking the Pit of Trials where he and Faldorn had fought for supremacy during her reign of darkness in the grove. He gazed into the depths of the pit as he spoke, his sharp features narrowing like a hawk as he spoke again. "The forest grows restless. There is a great darkness growing in these lands as of late. Evil is rising, and the druid grove is still weakened, split from Faldorn's influence. There yet remain Shadow sympathizers who watch, wait for an opportunity to repeat the coup which nearly wrecked the grove."

"Then why do you stand for their insolence?" Nalia asked, gesturing around them. "Why wait until they show their treachery if you know who they are? Root them out now and save yourself bloodshed down the road. Make an example of one of them; let them know that you and your kind are not to be trifled with. The others will fall into line soon enough."

Cernd glanced at Nalia, and then shook his head as he crossed his arms across his bare chest. "That is not the way of things here. Perhaps in the city, where servants are many and equals are hard to find... but here, in the grove, each man and woman has leave to seek his own path, choose his own destiny in the world."

"So long as it conforms to your specific ideas of what a druid's destiny should look like." Solaufein remarked quietly.

The shapeshifter nodded, conceding the point. "Admittedly, even in the midst of the wild there is order to a degree, as it must be here. We will allow any druid who wishes to leave that right. We will harbor and shelter any who wish to study our ways and choose how they wish to learn. But we will not permit those who would attack us. Not after they have proven their intent."

"Naive... I would have agreed with you once upon a time, however, so I cannot fault you too harshly." Nalia sighed, looking to Anomen. "It does not appear we shall have his aid assaulting Watcher's Keep. Is there yet more to do here or shall we depart?"

There was naught but the sound of frogs and chirping crickets in the chamber for a time as Anomen tried to find the words, but he came up short. "I suppose not. If you feel your place is here, then so be it. I shall not force you from it, nor do I think I could were I to try. From what I understand, Sir Keldorn thought highly of your martial skills."

"No more so than I of his." Cernd finally relaxed, letting his rigid posture go, allowing his lean frame to sage slightly. "I offer you my best wishes along your path. May nature shield you from the dangers you face."

"Be well." Anomen bowed slightly and turned, Reynald and the others following in his wake.

Cernd watched them depart, then motioned to a pair of young druids walking through the chamber hall. "Be kind enough to follow our guests until they have reached the borders of the grove safely. Maintain their safety if need be, though I doubt they will have need of your aid. Simply a precaution."

They nodded and went to take up their quarterstaffs and leather armor before following. Cernd sighed, looking down at the dust and rock beneath his feet. Should he have told them? Just what kind of evil they would be facing within Watcher's Keep? Oh yes, he and the druids knew of what lurked deep in the heart of Helm's tower. The druids had once fought in a great battle involving the captive monstrosity lurking inside. He knew quite well what would happen if it were to get free... and he knew that the Knights of the Vigil would be none too happy to see a druid accompanying Anomen's chosen party.

He turned to the Hall of Memories, where paintings upon the wall reflected great moments of history in their druidic order- and great moments of shame. One painting in particular that Cernd was drawn too- a ritual the druids had performed, to bring balance to a tainted and scorched land- it had gone so terribly wrong, releasing nothing but death, opening a gateway to the Underworld... and to a monstrosity that should never have been set free. It had been thousands of years since that time. Thousands of years since the druids had erred against Faerun. As self-imposed punishment, the druids kept close watch on where their foe resided, where he slept and waited for another chance to cross over into the mortal plane.

Perhaps it would have made more sense then, to go with them, to make certain that their folly would not be repeated again… but no. That guilt had been paid for by the blood of countless servants of nature in the past. No need to relive old guilt and debt. For now, his destiny lay upon a new path, rebuilding their world: helping the elves against the drow, keeping the remaining Shadow druid followers under control... and watching for the threat of the god-spawn emerging. That was more than enough to keep him busy for a time... no need to add the Prince of Demons to the mix.

X X X X X X

The air was putrid, thick with smoke and burning meat. It was humid as well, like a sauna all around him as he walked. His robes were sticking to him, the sweat that poured off of him staining his gray robes a darker shade. Everything was a clatter of busy-ness, a bustling ruckus that, if Greywulf had to pick one moment to compare it to, was like the time their original party, the one that had gone after Sarevok, had infiltrated the bandit camp outside of Nashkel. Men and women crowing about their ill-gotten gains, piles of loot alongside tents and cots, weapons and armor stacked alongside trophies and spoils of war. An underlying hint of menace behind everything, just enough to make him feel uncomfortable about sneaking in, knowing that if they knew who he was, just who was hidden beneath that bandit outfit, they'd all have been after a piece of him.

This time, however, things were different. No sneaking into Yaga-Shura's encampment, no hiding beneath costumes and disguises. Greywulf walked alone, even his quarterstaff gone, across the small, dried up creek bed that marked the border of the fire giant's encampment. He passed several tents on the outskirts, even catching the eye of one or two perimeter guards who were either too dumb or too uninformed to know just who this stranger was. Wizards and mages were no uncommon sight in the war camp he supposed, and if he had learned anything from Imoen about sneaking around, it was that given a big enough setting, one could get a long ways by simply looking like you belonged.

Not that it could last. No, that would be too easy. A shout from one of the soldiers as he passed ever further into their encampment was directed his way- he tried not to let himself smile. He was going to enjoy this- finally, payback for Saradush. Finally, a chance to let the rage, the power he had been taming within him loose on a worthy foe... a sibling. He stopped in his tracks, curling his fist as flames grew around it- his eyes flashed open as he looked up at the path ahead, spying two soldiers slowly picking up the pace, jogging and then running at him with weapons rising. A ball of fire immolated them both and he kept walking, not even bothering to wait until the armies of the Bhaalspawn made themselves known, simply clearing a path of devastation towards the center of their camp. Tents were set aflame, trees were reduced to cinders, and men were disintegrated.

The ground began shaking around him- that was his cue to either worry or be pleased- he wasn't sure which. It would depend on what was causing the shaking- a fire giant emerged several dozen yards off, pointing with a bellow, but his beard was dark brown, maybe red, but certainly not the bright orange flame that Yaga-Shura was known for. This was just another minion. Another pawn to be shoved aside before the real challenge. _**"Let me out... I could draw him to you..."**_

__The Slayer- the voice was still abhorrent, but he was beginning to deal with it. Ever since he'd begun trying to harness the power of the demon within him rather than deny it completely, he'd become ever more... accustomed, to its presence within him. Not to say he ever intended to give it the kind of control it ultimately desired... but if this compromise worked, he'd have a newfound advantage in every battle he faced against his brethren. But to transform... he still had to be careful with that kind of thing, especially with the others. They wouldn't understand. He smiled, picturing the Slayer ripping his foes apart- no. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and instead reached out with a Bigby's Crushing Fist, lifting the Fire Giant high off the ground, taking small comfort in the screams of the massive humanoid as he prepared to slam it to the ground. Yaga-Shura had best make an appearance soon- he couldn't fight the whole army on his own. But he didn't intend to. He just needed to get his brother's attention. As the fire giant slammed into the earth below, Greywulf reared his head back and screamed, "YAGA-SHURA! FACE ME!"

From across the war camp, at one of the few remaining towers along the Saradush wall, Imoen peered out from between the guard bricks, not wanting to risk a random spotter noting their position. The plan all depended upon Yaga-Shura's unending arrogance... his willingness to face Greywulf one-on-one rather than using his army to squash the wizard. She glanced over at Sarevok, the big man's arms folded as he looked out upon the field, glowing eyes narrowed. He watched as the Bigby's Crushing Fist raised the fire giant above the sparse trees and smirked as he felt the slight vibration of it hitting the ground. "Get down, y'bufflehead." Imoen whispered harshly, motioning for him to take some measure of cover. "What if they spot you?"

"Hnh." Sarevok grunted, not moving a muscle. "First of all, your use of the term 'bufflehead' makes me want to gag. Second, take a look at the commotion that our dear brother is causing. They have no clue we exist."

Imoen scowled at her brother but did as he said, glancing out from cover, noting with dismay, that what he said was true. From all over the camp she could see men and women and fire giants beginning to swarm towards Greywulf's position. She heard the echo of his shout, his declaration of war against Yaga-Shura. Surely the giant wouldn't turn down the chance to finish off a sibling with his own hands... if he didn't make his move quickly, they wouldn't have much time to rescue their companion. She peeked over the edge, making sure that Minsc, Aerie and Jaheira were in position- waiting by the base of the tower, looking out towards the camp where Greywulf had gone- probably a few hundred yards between them and Greywulf.

It would be a long, hard sprint if Greywulf needed their aid, but this was the minimum safe distance they'd determined such that Yaga-Shura's men wouldn't accidentally spot them. Also, while it would take Imoen and Sarevok time to get down from the tower in case things went south, the others could still react quicker. It wasn't a perfect plan... but it would work. It had to work. Imoen fingered the taut string on her bow and drew one of the arrows from her quiver, nervously gazing at the bulbous tip. It would be hard to aim, hard to control... but only for someone who hadn't done it before. She had the experience, had the skill. She'd better, if Greywulf had any sort of chance.

She sighed, glancing at Sarevok again for a moment. "Y'ever use these kinds of arrows before? What am I talking about, of course y'have. Yer men down in the Undercity nearly destroyed all of us with a few. Kind of hard to find though- not too many shops carry Arrows of Detonation. Not that it stopped us-"

Sarevok rolled his eyes as Imoen continued speaking, rambling on and on about meaningless drivel, just another of the traits he was thankful that her tiny portion of soul had not transferred to him. He could have sworn that she was doing it on purpose to annoy him... but there was nothing for it except to tune her out, to try and focus on something- anything else. He let her words drone on in the back of his mind, choosing instead to focus on the rest of his surroundings, letting the lids of his eyes close as he inhaled deeply, nearly slipping into a meditative state. He could still hear her, and surely she'd let him know when Greywulf sent the signal or if they need aid... but... but... he heard something.

His brow knit slightly, as he tried to place the faint sound against the ambience of everything else- a gritty sliding noise, like sandpaper against stone. He had heard it in the past... and he knew exactly what it was. Leather soles sliding against flooring in order to keep from making footsteps. It was a hard noise to pick up, and almost impossible to catch unless you were listening for it... or if you had been the target of assassins in the past. Invisible men and women, using magic to cloak themselves while sidling up to their target to tend their life. He concentrated further, knowing he only had seconds before he would have to act- three different sources. Maybe four. Sarevok grimaced- no reason to be hunting him- they were after the Bhaalspawn. Imoen. He could strike the location of one of them, but the others would attack right away and Imoen would be dead. And if Imoen died, Greywulf would follow soon after at the hands of Yaga-Shura... unacceptable.

Imoen paused as Sarevok's armor shifted, and she was certain he was about to lay out another sarcastic remark about her tendency to blather on... which to be perfectly honest was one of the ways she tried to annoy the Deathbringer... but there were no words. Imoen glanced behind her to see what Sarevok was up to- his blade was planted firmly in his hands, his back to her as he stood stone still, eyes flitting back and forth. "What-?

Sarevok cut off her question with a snarl. "Ready yourself- we are not alone! Cast your spells of detection before they strike!"

Imoen did not bother to ask how Sarevok had come to this knowledge, what he had seen or heard- she had just begun to make the incantations when she heard the sounds of footsteps nearby- far too close! Sarevok had apparently heard the same and hurled himself back, raising his sword in front of Imoen. An invisible blade ricocheted off the block, but his luck ended there. Pushing himself in front of her also put him squarely in the path of two crossbow bolts that had been aimed at Imoen. Both pierced his armor, sinking into his side. He sank to the ground with a groan, just as Imoen finished her spell, illuminating the unseen assailants.

Four dark armored elves pressed at her, their faces and features unmistakable. "Drow? Gods no... of all times, not now!" Imoen shouted desperately as she swung her bow up with the arrow of Detonation strung and ready- too late. The closest elf knocked the weapon from her hands as the arrow swung high and shot lightly into the air, sailing over the edge of the tower. His hand gripped her throat and raised the relatively short girl off the ground, the tips of her boots dangling as she groped at the hand holding her up. The one holding her leaned in closer, examining her face for a few moments, before grinning darkly. "I know who you are, little one. Imoen... one of the wards of Gorion. One of the two we will kill today in the name of Sendai."

"More... ghhkkk... more assassins, huh?" Imoen choked out, just catching with her peripheral vision the sight of something hurtling downwards outside the tower radius. She managed a slight smile. "Don't know any 'Sendai'... but you didn't hurt my friends downstairs... did ya?"

"Their lives are meaningless." her assailant hissed, raising his blade to impale her upon it. "Tell us where to find Greywulf. He was not with your companions downstairs- cooperate and your passing will be swift."

An explosion at the base of the tower rocked the ground, making her opponent stumble for a half-second- enough for her to swing her legs upward in an acrobatic maneuver that rocked the drow back onto his heels as Imoen's feet slammed into his chin. His grip loosened and she maintained her momentum enough to make a complete back-flip as she landed in a crouch, one hand on the ground as the other drew her short sword from her belt. "Yer gonna wish you'd killed me when you had the chance. And that you hadn't left my friends down there alone. Damn, yer just making all kinds of mistakes today..."

Despite her bravado, Imoen was all too aware that they were in trouble. Sarevok was down, possibly dead, and while she held no love for him, he was a fine warrior and if drow assassins were on their trail, his help would be invaluable. Not to mention that the prospect of her fending off four of them at one time was next to impossible. Jaheira and the others would be racing up the tower steps after seeing that explosion beside them- assuming the explosion hadn't actually killed them, but what were the chances of that happening- and so she only had to hold off four drow for... say, thirty seconds. And be ready to aid Greywulf when the time came. Yes, her earlier assessment was correct. They were in trouble.

Back down on the forest floor, inside the war camp of Yaga-Shura, Greywulf stood his ground, surrounded on all sides by blades, bows and spells. He let his gaze drift over every one of them, slowly turning to see just what kinds of death awaited him if even one of them decided it better to kill him now rather than wait for their master. No... they were too loyal. Too devoted to their 'god' to deny him this chance. Their mistake to make, and one he would not let go unpunished. The ground shook for a moment, and Greywulf thought it was Yaga-Shura... no, it was from back at the tower. Had something gone wrong? A sense of panic began rising within him, but it was quelled almost immediately by the voice within. _**"There is no need to fear. Should every one of your plans fail, you have the power to tear the fool's chest open with your own hands!"**_

It was true... and how could he be blamed if it came down to it? This method was one where he could accomplish his goals without the use of the taint, but if there was no alternative... he settled down again. The others could handle themselves without his needless worrying. And unbeknownst to them, so could he. A booming laugh echoed overhead- filled with arrogance, malice and unbridled savagery... no question that his opponent had finally shown himself. Bursting through the line of soldiers and men, a fire giant taller than all the rest, with blazing orange hair and beard, Yaga-Shura was truly a fearsome sight to behold. His eyes were wide with the anticipation of gaining the power of another child of Bhaal. Just as he had hoped, the giant had grown complacent. Weak. He did not wear heavy plate armor or pauldrons- he wore greaves but no shirt, letting his massively scarred, bare chest do all the talking. And why not? For one such as him, invulnerable and regenerating... every scar was simply another reminder of his power.

"What a disappointment you created for me, worm!" boomed Yaga-Shura. "I redoubled our efforts to crush this worthless town when I heard you were within, the Terror of the Sword Coast...only to find you gone! I thought I would have to content myself with slaughtering all the weakling Bhaalspawn in the city and forgetting about you... but here you are!"

"No need to hide from scum like you." Greywulf raised both hands, showing that he had no weapon, his quarterstaff abandoned in place of using both hands for spellcraft. "I've come alone, even sent my sister away. Face me one-on-one, without your army. Or are you frightened?"

Yaga-Shura paused a moment... then let out a horrendous laugh, spittle flying from his mouth as he reared his head back. "Hahahaha! You amuse me, brother! But I shall grant your request- for when they see me destroy you singlehandedly, there will be no doubt that I am the greatest of all the Bhaalspawn!"

The rest of the army backed away, creating an arena of sorts, wishing to see the glory of the master first-hand while still fearful of the collateral damage that could and quite probably would occur when these two god-spawn battled. Yaga-Shura hefted his massive war hammer, the head of the weapon glowing green as he swung it once, twice, letting the sheer size of the weapon intimidate his foes. Greywulf flexed his hands, snapping his hands open as lightning danced in his hands. A little show boating on both sides- the fire giant was cocky, willing to take his time with this fight. Good- give Imoen more time to make the shot. He subconsciously glanced down to the pouch of spell ingredients hanging from his belt. It was much bigger than usual- and if Yaga-Shura had any idea that his heart was hanging inside he would have been acting with quite a bit more urgency.

X X X X X X

The explosion that rocked the ground knocked Jaheira, Minsc and Aerie off their feet as clods of grass and dirt rained all around them. It had been far too close to them- had they been spotted by Yaga-Shura's encampment? Were they catapults, hurling explosive death towards their position? No... it was something else entirely. Minsc shook his head to try and get the ringing out of his ears as he got to his hands and knees- he glanced to his right to make sure Aerie was all right, she was slower getting up, but she looked to be fine. Minsc shouted a word of warning, pointing up toward the top of the tower- Aerie frowned, looking at him strangely. "What?"

"I said, we must make sure Imoen is all right! What did you say?"

"I can't hear you, what? My ears are still ringing-"

Jaheira grabbed Minsc by the shoulder, pointing toward the passageway at the base of the tower leading up to the top. "Minsc! We should make certain Imoen is all right! Someone should remain here in case Greywulf needs aid-"

"I think one of us should stay here!" Minsc shouted back, "Boo cannot hear you!"

Aerie gripped her forehead with a wince, her hearing finally returning, a touch quicker than the others, having been the furthest away from the blast. "Both of you get upstairs- I'll watch Greywulf's position from here." A few accompanying hand motions were enough to convey her point and within moments Minsc and Jaheira were ascending the tower stairs, taking the steps two and three at a time as they made their way ever higher. Jaheira felt the trickle of blood running down her cheek- a piece of rock or dirt had hit her squarely in the face after the explosion- no time to take care of it now. Whatever had hit was either aimed at them or Imoen... or was it? The Arrows of Detonation Imoen had- some kind of call for help?

The idea that they might be running into a battle right there and then was just enough for Jaheira to brace herself- and just in time. A dark shape leapt down the stairway with dagger bared, ready to plunge into an unwary neck. Jaheira had just raised her spear to guard position, and let the tip rise to catch the leaping figure in the chest, swinging him up and over her head, sending him crashing down the stairs. Minsc's eyes widened at the sudden attack and Jaheira's ungodly reaction time- he grinned and drew his blade, Jaheira inhaling sharply as adrenaline surged through her system, letting the ranger take point.

At the top of the tower, Imoen rolled aside from a crossbow bolt that shattered a few inches from where her head had been a second prior. One of the drow had moved back to guard the tower climb from her companions, but that still left her fighting a three on one battle, and it was not going well. The top of the tower was not exactly a big place to hold a battle royale, and she had just enough speed and space to keep dodging, but she could not find the time or opportunity to mount any kind of counterattack. She came up from the roll she'd performed to avoid a set of crossbow bolts and let out a yelp of fear as an obsidian blade landed in front of her, her momentum nearly taking her head to where it would have been split like a fresh melon.

One of the drow wielding a crossbow fired again- Imoen blurted out the trigger word for her Stoneskin spells and watched in relief as the shot ricocheted off her magical protection. She tried to swing to her feet but a kick sent her rolling across the tower floor before hitting the guard stones. The drow holding the blade snarled as he landed another blow, the only effect being a third skin dropping. How many left- Imoen tried desperately not to think about it as she hurriedly shouted another set of incantations and thrust her hands out from lying on her back- a Prismatic spray engulfed her opponent as two more blots hit her body, the second one leaving her vulnerable and unprotected once again. If the spell didn't do enough to hold the drow before her back, it would all be over- as the blinding light cleared, Imoen was rewarded with the sight of a stone statue of a drow warrior, frozen in time with sword raised high to strike, but never to fall. One chance to save herself again- Imoen flexed her stomach muscles and flipped to her feet from lying on her back, slipping behind the statue of the drow as more crossbow bolts struck the statue instead of her.

A temporary solution at best- she peeked out and sure enough, the two remaining drow were simply moving to either side of the tower, making certain she couldn't use the statue to defend herself against both. She needed an edge- and like it or not, spells were going to be difficult to get out with two archers on her. Damn it. Behind her, leaning against the edge of the tower guard stones, was her bow… could she get it and get a shot off before she took at least one crossbow shot to the back, chest, or leg? Maybe an invisibility spell... using their own tactics against them? Imoen smirked, beginning the incantations and disappearing from sight before either could get a clean shot. Easy to get her bow now, or maybe she should simply finish one of them with a spell right away-

Before she could make a decision, she heard a self-satisfied laugh and peeked out just in time to see a wave of white powder slice through the whole area nearby, catching her right in the face and upper chest. Imoen sputtered once or twice, then paled as she realized what had happened, looking at the drow standing there with an empty pouch at his feet. Flour. Sticking to her... and effectively negating her spell. Of course they'd be prepared for this kind of thing- they were hunting a sorcerer and a thief-mage after all- but to be defeated by a common baking ingredient? This was just embarrassing. If she got out of this, she wasn't telling Greywulf. *If*, of course, being the optimal word in this situation. She ducked behind the statue again as her sudden appearance drew two more shots.

Another bolt hit the statue, this one sending a small chip of stone off that struck her cheek. She winced, knowing she had only another few seconds to make a new decision- before it was made for her. She tensed, getting ready to make her move- a familiar roar echoed across the tower and Imoen grinned, knowing she'd just been given a reprieve. Minsc leapt from the tower staircase with sword upraised, bringing it down to bisect one of the drow marksmen. The dark elf was given just enough warning by Minsc's battle cry and managed to roll out of the way, landing beside Sarevok's lifeless body- but he was given a rude awakening as muscled arms snaked out, intertwining with the drow's ankles, bringing him to the ground with the clack of teeth as the drow's chin hit first. He looked back in shock to see Sarevok's eyes open, a furious rage borne of pain on his face as he pulled at the man's legs, trying to bring him closer to where he could get a hold of the elf's neck. The drow swung his crossbow downwards to aim at the Deathbringer's head- a spear pinned his arm to the ground at the elbow, Jaheira twisting the spear with a snarl as the man dropped the crossbow with a twitch of the hands.

Imoen leapt for her bow and came up with it in her hands, already swinging to find the second drow- only to see that drow's crossbow aimed right into her face. "Well crap."

A downswing from Minsc ended the life of the injured drow as Jaheira knelt by Sarevok, Minsc turning his attention to the drow with at his mercy, the elf never taking his eyes off the thief-mage as he snarled, "I will kill her if any of you move closer. Do not move."

"And we will have your head on a pike if you harm a hair on her head." Jaheira shot back, glancing down at Sarevok's wounds- blood had pooled around him, but not as much as she would have expected from two injuries such as his. The armor had kept the bolts from piercing too far- he would live if she was given time to work her magics. Time that would not be afforded to her until Imoen was safe.

"Release her, or you will feel the wrath of Minsc! Boo will tear your eyeballs from their sockets!" Minsc pointed at the offending drow while holding his great sword with one hand- just another example of what kind of strength lay inside the ranger's body.

The drow held his crossbow even tighter- he didn't want to die here, but his mission, his orders were clear. "You may destroy me, but Sendai has hundreds more like us. We will be your death in the end."

"Sendai?" Jaheira paused, then nodded grimly. "One of Yaga-Shura's allies, undoubtedly… another Bhaalspawn with delusions of godhood. Your masters will never succeed. Nature itself will defy you."

"Maybe, but my mistress demands the heads of the wards of Gorion- I can do no other than obey her to the end." the drow sneered, pressing the crossbow harder into Imoen's temple. "One will die here; the other will follow, if not by my hand, then another. There is no escape."

Behind them, out in the war camp of Yaga-Shura, a lightning bolt erupted from the ground and flashed through the sky. The signal they had agreed upon! It was time for their part- and there was no way they'd be able to pull it off.

X X X X X X

The war hammer struck the ground where Greywulf had been standing, the sorcerer activating a Shadow Door spell at the last moment, slipping through the planes to appear across the makeshift arena, invisible from human sight. The giant whirled around, eyes narrowed as he looked for his foe. He growled in frustration and swung his hammer low in a sweeping circle, trying to ferret out his invisible foe. Greywulf tensed, trying to decide if now was the time- if he sent the signal to Imoen, she'd be able to get the shot off, but Yaga-Shura would know his position and move right for him. He needed to get him on the ground, give himself time to send the signal and make certain he would be far enough away that the blast wouldn't catch him as well.

Before he could make the choice, Yaga-Shura lowered his shoulders and charged across the arena, swinging wildly. He couldn't see Greywulf, but he was coming past his position- the war hammer grazed his side and sent him flying, rolling across the ground as his cloak tangled up around him as well. The slight glancing blow was enough to crack at least two ribs- his whole body ached with each breath. A howl of victory issued from Yaga-Shura as his invisibility faded, and Greywulf forced himself to concentrate as he leveled a hand at Yaga-Shura, unleashing a Cone of Cold, trying to buy time so that he could get back to his feet. The giant leaned into the ice blast, pushing through the growing ice crystals on his body. His stilted movements continued, even as the intense cold continued spewing from Greywulf's hands... it ceased, Yaga-Shura's torso and upper legs encased. He laughed, eyes blazing with hatred at Greywulf, the sorcerer slowly rising. "You fool! I am immortal! You will beg for mercy before Yaga-Shura has finished with you!"

The ice began cracking, shattering under his massive strength- and Greywulf saw his opportunity. He raised a hand, letting lightning erupt from it, striking high into the sky. After the energy had blazed for a second, he let his hand drop and directed the blasts of magic at Yaga-Shura himself, the lightning striking through the ice and into Yaga-Shura's body. His flesh burned and blackened, only to regrow and renew after a few seconds. It was true- any conventional assault would have no chance of victory. Greywulf tensed, dropping a hand toward the pouch where he kept Yaga-Shura's still beating heart, waiting for the Arrow of Detonation to tear the giant's chest open- Yaga-Shura finally burst from the ice, hefted his war hammer and started stomping towards Greywulf. There was still no arrow from Imoen to be seen... this was not good. Yaga-Shura swung his hammer so quickly that it was all Greywulf could do to summon a Mantle spell before he found himself bowled through the line of Yaga-Shura's men forming the edge of the arena- the men quickly pushed him back into the circle of battle, Greywulf's wits knocked from him with the massive blow. If the others didn't hurry... he felt the power of the Slayer gnawing at him, whispering in his ears...

Atop the guard tower, it had been nearly ten seconds since the signal... Greywulf needed her, and fast. She thought of what Jaheira had told her, what Sarevok had told her. It was all about protecting her and Greywulf, all about keeping them alive to fulfill whatever destiny the taint had in store for them. To her, there was no doubt that Greywulf was the stronger of the two. If anyone could master the power of Bhaal, could make use of it for good, it was him. He needed her right now. Whatever the cost- he needed to survive, more than her. Only one chance to make this right- and with a quick exhalation of breath, she went for it.

Imoen jerked backwards, the opposite direction of the pressure that the drow had been putting on her neck. There was no reason for her to try and push backwards, after all... that would only lead off the edge of the hundred foot high tower. And sure enough, he was taken completely by surprise as she slipped from his grasp, her back pressing against the tower edge, one hand already going for her quiver and the Arrows of Detonation back there. She spun to her right, into the drow's body so that her vision was facing the war camp- this would be her last moment of clear vision- one split-second to take in the position of Yaga-Shura, his figure towering over the top of the rest, and with that she leapt.

The sound of the others, their cries of surprise and shock were all but lost to her as she hurtled through the air, gravity already beginning to tug downwards- but not before she had drawn the arrow to the bow. The last of her upward momentum ceased as she drew the string back, praying to any and all gods that this shot would hit its target- and as she slipped into free fall, released the arrow. Now to face a death that would be upon her in seconds- what in the world? An enormous updraft was slowing her descent... she looked below in shock, seeing Aerie with her feet planted and hands raised, wind gusting and forming a cyclone below her- the Avariel was straining far beyond anything she had ever done before. How long could she keep it up?

Greywulf struggled in the grip of Yaga-Shura, the giant holding him clenched within both hands, raised high in the air as he bellowed a laugh. Greywulf's Mantle spell was all but gone- he would be vulnerable within seconds. Time to make a decision. "I should have been the first sent after you, and now I shall prove it! Yaga-Shura shall become even greater still! Now, embrace oblivion!"

Without warning, a whistling sound entered the arena- Greywulf craned his neck behind him to see an arrow hurtling through the air, landing several feet from Yaga-Shura's position- the detonation sent the giant hurtling to the ground, the rest of the men surrounding the battle knocked off their feet by the shockwave. Greywulf was flung to the ground beside Yaga-Shura's form- but there was his chance. Imoen had failed... but he could do it. Could finish the job- Greywulf stumbled over to Yaga-Shura as the giant began to stir- climbing atop the humanoid's chest, his eyes flashed golden and he reached deep down into his soul... touching the power and the taint within. His body began shifting, changing... but not into the Slayer. Not completely. He was an amalgam, a mixture of humanity and demon, a monstrous shape that was far too beastly to be considered human, but not quite the form of power that he had taken in the past. As his arm swam out of view, replaced with a massive claw, he thrust it downwards, pounding through flesh and bone and meat. Yaga-Shura howled in pain as the Slayer-Greywulf tore a hole into his chest cavity, the other, human hand reaching into the pouch and yanking the throbbing heart from its resting place. Yaga-Shura's bleary eyes fixed on it, and he began to scream in terror, realizing what was about to happen.

The Slayer-Greywulf snarled, half-elf features rapidly shifting demonic, back and forth. _**"**_T_**o**_o _**late **_no_**w, **_bro_**the**_r_**. You lo**_se."

His hand slammed the heart into the cavity where it had once rested... and light blasted forth from the fire giant's chest, mouth and eyes as Yaga-Shura screamed. The chest closed up rapidly as Yaga-Shura clawed at his own body, trying to get the organ out... but it was far too late. The effects of reuniting the heart with the body were already underway- a shock wave of magic erupted from Yaga-Shura's body, then another, and another. Everyone nearby was flattened, and as they swept outwards, the tower that the others were seated upon, even Aerie and Imoen, the elf trying to keep her from a messy death on the rocks below... all of it was blown backwards as the rock tumbled downwards, destroying the few remaining structures left in Saradush... along with everything inside them.


	25. Part 1: A Mother's Love

Falling. The ground rushing upwards, her screams drowned out by the sound of the wind rushing past her as she plummeted to the hard, unrelenting stone and dirt beneath- Imoen jerked upwards, eyes wide as she tried to slow her breathing. She blinked madly, grasping her head with one hand as she pushed herself to a sitting position with the other. "Oh, master's sibling is awake! Good, good! Cespenar did not want to have to tell master than his favorite of blood-rivals was dead! No, not at all!"

That high-pitched, squealing voice- Imoen had never been happier to hear it. She turned and spotted the imp, Cespenar floating nervously by her side, head bobbing as his black eyes glittered in the ambient light. "Good to see ya, Cespenar." Imoen sighed, reaching out to tousle the gnobby head of the imp. "Guess since I'm here with you, I'm not some greasy spot on the ruins of Saradush."

That was, after all, the last thing she remembered. Leaping off a tower of the broken city wall, making a shot of unadulterated faith before plummeting to certain doom... no. Aerie had intervened, trying to use her magics to slow Imoen's fall. She might've been able to do something herself if her hands hadn't been full with her bow, but she had resigned herself to nothing more than a slow drop and a quick stop until the Avariel had rescued her. Well, perhaps rescued was a strong word... given her a reprieve was more likely. And yet, here she was, alive and breathing. Speaking of Aerie- Imoen turned her gaze, looking over the darkened, misty platform that comprised Greywulf's Pocket Plane- misty? It hadn't been like this before. As unnatural and grotesque as it had been in the past, the Plane was always ordered, structured... nothing like the increasingly divided and chaotic sight before her.

The Pocket Plane's main platform was no longer clear and open, dotted with statues of horrifying demonic visages- instead, it was a foggy, haze filled soup, obscuring vision any further than ten or fifteen feet in front of her. What had happened? Were the others okay? Imoen began scrambling to her feet, immediately moving her hand for the comforting feeling of her bow. She nocked an arrow to the string, moving into the haze with Cespenar tucked behind her leg, hovering nervously as he glanced up to Imoen. "Glad Cespenar is to know you are ok. Cespenar just minding his own business, looking for the shiny things that fall into Master's plane when all of a sudden, poof! Fog and mistyness is everywheres. Statueses not come to life and protect plane, so no threat? Maybes... but I is taking no chances."

"Good idea, I think." Imoen muttered, sliding forward one leather clad toe at a time, keeping her weapon at guard position. She peered through the murky darkness, cursing her strictly human heritage. Well, demi-god-with-human-dominant-racial-traits heritage. An elf or even a half-elf might've had better vision in this kind of soupy mess. Not that infravision would have been much help, but it would make her feel better. She'd already tried the spell, to no avail. As it was, she could barely see five feet in front of her as she tried to find the rest of her companions. "Don't s'pose you happened to see where any of the others landed?"

"Mmm... no. No sees any of the others. But Master must still be alive, or I's would not be here, yes?" Cespenar nodded eagerly.

"Huh. I suppose that makes sense," Imoen chuckled, snorting once. "Way to be the eternal optimist."

"I would like to point out just how strange it is that the presence of a demonic imp butler guarantees our safety." the accented tones made Imoen spin in delight, filled with relief as she spotted Jaheira striding out from the haze. "It is good to see you, child. I did not relish the idea of exploring this entire place alone."

"My safety was also somewhere near the top of that wish list of yours too, I'm sure." Imoen grinned, ignoring the quick eye-roll from her companion. "Any idea why Greywulf's own little paradise has suddenly turned into something that looks like my last attempt at cooking dinner for the group?"

"I do not know... not for certain, anyway." Jaheira murmured, sliding forward, one foot in front of the other as she cautiously tread further into the mist.

"Ooo... sounds like you have a theory though. Mind sharing it with the rest of us?" the curiosity in Imoen's voice did nothing to abate the sudden chill that rose in Jaheira's stomach. She did not answer the thief-mage, leading to a quick 'harrumph' and a mutter about how Imoen didn't care anyway... Jaheira barely heard any of it. Only one voice echoed in her mind, only one thought gave her cause to fight a growing sense of both urgency and fear. _"I'm... I'm not certain everything is as it should be with Greywulf. That's why I wanted to talk to you. He has seemed... different to me. Talking to him, even watching him and the way he reacts to danger, to us, to Sarevok. As though he is no longer concerned with the taint that threatens him-" _

Aerie's warnings came unbidden to her, each word punctuated by another step she took into the fog. She didn't claim to know everything there was to know about the taint, about the inherent potential or power that resided within Greywulf's form. She didn't pretend that the twists and turns that his path took would all be pleasant ones. She didn't even claim to know exactly what was best for their relationship, as burgeoning and growing as it remained. But she did know what her senses told her. She knew what Aerie had said, words she'd denied vehemently, refusing to consider anything of the sort. She knew that Greywulf had nearly lost himself to the taint on more occasions than she liked to remember.

On optimistic days she would say that overcoming those near-falls had only served to make him stronger. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite a glass-half-full kind of woman. And this sudden shift of the environment... something was wrong. The memory of the taint of Gromnir being absorbed into the bodies of Imoen and Greywulf upon his death had not left her... and if Greywulf had slain Yaga-Shura, as they had planned...

"Cespenar has idea." the imp voiced, his disjointed and broken speech cutting through the awkward silence that Jaheira's impromptu brooding was causing. "Master has shinies in pack, yes? Cespenar good at finding the shinies! Can sense them when close, yes? We follow Cespenar- with you very close to protect Cespenar, yes- and we finds the Master!"

Imoen glanced at Jaheira, the two women exchanging a moment of query between them before nodding to their imp butler. "Lead on, then. And with any luck, we'll find the rest of the group along the way."

X X X X X X

"You... are certain of this?"

He asked the question, but knew that there was no chance his visitor was mistaken. He had known it was a possibility ever since he had given the order for Sir Ryan Trawl to march. Had known that despite the skill and experience of his most trusted paladin, there was still a good chance that it would all go for naught. That it would all be worthless. And now the highest representative of Tethyr aside from the King and Queen themselves, General Jamis Tombelthen stood before him and told him everything he feared had come to pass.

"You do not wish to believe it, Prelate Wessaren. I understand this, but I tell you that my men saw the devastation with their own eyes. I saw it. I was there. Saradush is a burning wasteland, and Sir Ryan Trawl is dead. All the knights and paladins you sent at his side are dead. The Bhaalspawn have brought their devastation to your house now, Prelate. Will you continue to defend them from the justice that so rightly demands their blood?"

The Prelate lowered his head, resting his hands on the table that separated the General and him. He did not speak, simply noting the lines and wrinkles that were showing ever more noticeably on his own hands. He was not a young man anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination. He had seen the best and the worst that Faerun had to offer. He had lived through the Time of Troubles, fighting evil as a squire, then a knight, then a paladin, and finally rising to the rank of Prelate of the Order. The highest honor any warrior of righteousness could aspire to. And yet, here he stood, trying to hold back the storm of vengeance that would descend upon the heads of every god-spawn in the lands.

"We gave you the opportunity for your men to prove that this threat was not as dire as my king fears." Jamis remained ramrod stiff, his helmet tucked beneath one arm as he spoke, deep blue eyes piercing and unrelenting. "To prove that the Bhaalspawn are not as evil, as destructive as we feared. What have you to show for our lenience? An entire city, a heavily fortified one at that, is nothing more than rubble. Your men, your friends are dead. Why do you continue to deny the threat that we are poised to fight?"

Wessaren remained silent again. How could he reply? How could he persuade the General of Tethyr that while he agreed with almost everything that had been aid, that he agreed the Bhaalspawn were one of the greatest threats to the land that had ever risen, he could not bring himself to condone their extermination? Not his judgment, not at all. The words of a friend were what stayed the wrath of the Order… but those words that would mean nothing, when it was known that his involvement with a Bhaalspawn had led to his death.

"I remain convinced that the intervention of the armies of Tethyr is unnecessary." the Prelate finally spoke, straightening up and meeting Tombelthen's icy gaze. "With all respect to the Lord and Lady of Tethyr, there is nothing to be concerned about. The Bhaalspawn crisis is nearing its end. All the prophecies state-"

"That the god-children will fight until the rivers of Faerun run red with blood. Yes, they have been fulfilled quite nicely." Jamis growled, cutting off the paladin before him. "So long as any of the spawn exist, there will be no peace. Understand this, Prelate Wessaren. It is only the reputation and the respect that your Order commands that we gave you the chance to resolve this on your own terms. You have failed and now we will bring the full might of the Tethyrian army down upon these monstrosities. It is only proper that I give you advance warning... this will not be a pretty campaign. The god-children will hide in towns, and we will have them with or without the cooperation of those they hide themselves with. If they raise their own armies, like this Yaga-Shura, we will wipe them off the face of Toril. We will *not* stop until the Bhaalspawn are no more."

Wessaren inhaled sharply... that was it, then. All his efforts at keeping the peace in the Amnish lands and the surrounding countries had failed. War was coming, and the Radiant Heart had never been weaker, or less equipped to deal with the devastation that was sure to come. "As you know, General Tombelthen, the Order is sworn to stay out of politics. We can do nothing but accept the judgment of the kingdom of Tethyr in this matter. We shall not impede your progress."

Jamis nodded, and his demeanor softened, if only a touch. "Thank you for your cooperation, Prelate. You may think me unsympathetic to y our cause... I understand why you hesitate to declare war on these god-spawn... you believe that some of them may be redeemable, that some could have rejected the heritage of blood. It is a fantasy... wishful thinking, nothing more. They say that the wards of Gorion were at Saradush- part of the defense there. What happened? Yaga-Shura and his army might be gone, but what of the city? Righteousness turns into destruction, their best deeds into ashes. I am sorry, but this is how it must be. We will hunt them all, Gorion's wards are no exception. The Terrors of the Sword Coast... surely their moniker does them no credit in your eyes. I ask you once more... will you aid us? Send the ranks of the Radiant Heart in our midst to aid against the threat of the Bhaalspawn? If not for you, then for those who fell at Saradush?"

Hnh. Their moniker- 'Terrors of the Sword Coast'. Trails of destruction that had followed them, admittedly. A mixture of stories that followed them from town to town, ranging from heroic paragons to renegade lawbreakers. None of that gave Wessaren cause to trust them, or at least hesitate in labeling them with every other Bhaalspawn out there. Just the word of another paladin. An old friend.

_"Richard. It is good to see you, old friend."_

_ The Prelate of the Order smiled as he heard the door to his office swing open, the sound of the visitor's armor ringing against itself as he approached. He knew the paladin's gait, his body language, could tell it was him just by listening to him walk. They had served together enough years that it was child's play. But if that were not enough, the simple fact that he did not address him as 'Prelate,' or even Wessaren. _

_ Wessaren looked up at Keldorn Firecam and embraced the older man with the candor of friends with history spanning three decades. "Keldorn, it is a pleasure to see you, as always. I was just finishing your report on the business in the sewers of the Temples. A beholder cult beneath our feet... remarkable."_

_ Keldorn smiled, running one hand through his graying hair as he sat down in the chair opposite the Prelate's desk, adjusting the position of his blade with the other. The two men had risen through the ranks of the Order alongside one another, fought more battles than either cared to remember, standing back to back on battlefields where only the two of them remained... no need for titles or formalities with such old comrades and companions. "It was... unpleasant, that much I can say. I was fortunate though. If not for the assistance of some well-meaning adventurers, I have no doubt I would have met my end down there in those accursed tunnels."_

_ "You? Hah!" Wessaren laughed, setting down the scroll that Keldorn's report had been transcribed upon. "I would be shocked if you find your end before the ripe old age of one hundred. Your skill is unmatched among all the knights of the Order, and despite your unfailing humility you know it to be true."_

_ "Doubtful." Keldorn brushed the compliment aside, waving one hand with disregard. "Please, save such praise for the up-and-comers in the Order, I have little need of feeding my own ego these days. I know my own limitations, even if I refuse to accept them. At least I have managed to avoid getting dragged back into the Order Hall as some sort of weapons master or trainer, like a war horse put out to pasture when his days of fighting have come to an end."_

_ The not-so-veiled jab at his old comrade gave the Prelate a moment of pause before smirking in reply. "Perhaps, though my job here behind this desk that you hold so much disdain for does afford me a few comforts. For one, delegating responsibilities such as trudging through the sewer to others."_

_ Keldorn laughed aloud- a good exchange. "Touché. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to consider the benefits of giving up active adventuring and questing... though not for a time."_

_ "Ah- I had waited to hear that phrase." the Prelate shook his head with knowing acceptance. "You have said those exact words for almost ten years, ever since your hairs began showing their first hint of silver in them. There will always be another quest to follow, another wrong to right. You cannot fight the good fight forever, old friend. The spirit may be willing, but the flesh..."_

_ "The flesh gets old, feeble, and ready for naps between meals." Keldorn finished the joke, eliciting another laugh between the two men. Before Wessaren could say anything else, Keldorn spoke up, his mood shifting gears rapidly. "Forgive my attempt to cut this short, but I cannot become too distracted with our small reunions... I have another mission that I seek the Order's leave to embark upon."_

_ "Another? Well I am impressed- 'tis been almost a day since you submitted your report. I would have expected this at least six hours ago." Wessaren rolled his eyes before his expression shifted to match Keldorn's. "No... I see by your face that whatever you speak of is serious enough that there will be no time to rest, not this day. Very well then, tell me what exactly you seek leave to do."_

_ Keldorn spoke. He explained the situation with the Unseeing Eye, explained how Greywulf and Jaheira had met him in the darkness, aided his journey and how they had come out of it together, as one. He spoke of how they were seeking a lost companion, and how they would have to match the forces of both the Cowled Wizards, and the mad sorcerer who had kidnapped them to begin with, should they wish to find Imoen. They spoke of the Shadow Thieves, and their part to play in the finding of Spellhold. And finally, at the last... he spoke of Greywulf's heritage._

_ "Keldorn... your time in the sewers must've done something to your mind." Wessaren exclaimed. "You mean to travel with a god-child, a spawn of Murder, not as watcher or keeper, but companion? You yourself spoke of how the taint nearly took his mind when fighting the Unseeing Eye!"_

_ "Yes, and it will not be lightly that I take this task as my own." Keldorn murmured, clasping his hands in front of his face as he narrowed his gaze. "But there is something different about this one, Richard. There is something about this young man that I find... compelling. I do not sense that the darkness has a hold over his soul... and there is a power that I have not seen in some time. He could be a powerful force for good in the Realms... he only needs the guidance to keep him in balance."_

_ "So you accept the fact that for all the trust you somehow place in him, he could still end up like every prophecy suggests about the Bhaalspawn?" Wessaren arched an eyebrow, straightening up in his seat. "Keldorn, we have known each other for many years and I will speak plain. I do not like this. I do not approve, and were it any other member of the Order, I would deny your request without a second thought. But... I trust you. I trust your judgment. If you think that this... rescue mission, this quest that... Greywulf, is asking you to aid him in, is worth your time, I shall not deny it. My only request is that you be careful. We are but men... we must tread lightly in the affairs of demi-gods and prophecies."_

_ "Then it is a good thing that Torm watches over me." Keldorn smiled, standing and nodding to the Prelate with a quick exhalation of breath. "And with that, I must depart. There is much to do if we are to be successful in this endeavor. I have preparations to make... I simply wanted your blessing before I departed."_

_ Wessaren snorted, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards. "As though you would have heeded my command to stay, had I issued it. You were always too stubborn for your own good."_

_ "True enough!" Keldorn barked a laugh, turning to leave. "I have a feeling about this one, Richard... mark my words. I'll see you on the other side!"_

_ "Not if I see you first-" the Prelate called back as Keldorn strode from his office in the Order Hall... striding with every confidence in this unknown, this god-spawn._

Wessaren blinked, coming up from his memories. That was not the last time he had spoken to his old friend- he had seen him again in the company of the god-children later that year, asking for support against the vampire Bodhi. But not too long after- Greywulf and Imoen returning to the Order Hall with somber faces, and the Prelate had immediately known what fate had befallen his oldest friend. It would be easy to see the Bhaalspawn as threats, evils to be annihilated. Keldorn had faith in them... and it was enough.

"General Tombelthen. You have my word that the Radiant Heart will not interfere in your business as you scour the lands for these spawn. I offer no more than that. Our business is concluded, I think. Please give my regards to His and Her Majesty."

Jamis stiffened at the tone of the Prelate, but simply nodded and bowed lightly before turning on his heel and striding out of the Prelate's office. The doors slammed behind him, leaving General Tombelthen alone with his thoughts as he moved to leave the Order Hall and rejoin his army outside Athkatla. The sooner he left the outskirts of the city, the happier the citizens would be, and despite all of his bluster and determination, his intent was not to harm innocents in this war. But it was a war, of that there was no doubt. And if winning that war against the Bhaalspawn meant that some civilians were caught in the crossfire... regrettable, but necessary.

"General? Forgive my presumption, but I simply *had* to speak with you."

Soft, almost alluring tones grabbed Jamis' attention from his stride, turning it to a woman leaning against the walls of the corridor that had led to Wessaren's chambers. Her beauty was there, but harsh, almost angular. Her robes were fine and her manner regal- she held herself with the same pride, the same bearing as one of the royal court. Some kind of Amnish noble, perhaps? He approached, giving a cordial bow as was proper, before responding. "You have my attention, m'lady. What is it you need? I am, as you can imagine, rather busy."

"Hunting Bhaalspawn, I assume?" she asked, chuckling when Tombelthen's look of surprise turned to suspicion. "You should not be as surprised as you appear. I know many things about the Bhaalspawn, General. After all, I hid them for many a month before Yaga-Shura's armies wiped those under my protection from this earth."

He frowned, trying to remember- he had heard something about a protector, a woman who had been trying to gather the god-children, keep them from harm. What was her name? "Mellissan, is it?"

"I'm flattered you know me, General." she nodded, her smile widening. "I presume you know of my efforts to save the Bhaalspawn?"

"I know of them, yes." he replied. "It would appear you failed in your self-appointed task."

"Yes... yes, it would at that." she murmured. "Nevertheless, the massacre at Saradush opened my eyes. I was one of the few who escaped, and I saw how many innocents died because of the god-children. I see now what I was blind to in the past... if there is ever to be peace, the wars between the Children of Blood must end. To that end, I will help you find the ones you seek."

Tombelthen arched an eyebrow... this was unexpected. Welcome, but unexpected. "And just how can you aid us? Do you know where the god-spawn currently hide?"

"Hmm." Mellissan smiled even wider. "Oh, dear General, I know that and more. You see, I have done nothing but study them for the last few years of my life. I know where they are, who they are... and even more importantly, I know how they think."

X X X X X X

"By the gods..."

"What happened to him? Is he-"

"No... there are no injuries that I can see. But this is... this is not his blood."

"Master doesn't look so good, me thinks..."

The mixture of voices and tones began seeping into his groggy mind, rapidly drawing him back to the land of the living. Consciousness- it hurt like a hammer to the forehead after being knocked out for a time. It was even worse when the cause of unconsciousness was mystical or taint-driven. The fact that he had enough experience to know this, he thought in a brief moment of reflection as he tried to groan out some kind of sign that he was awake, was kind of sad. Still, he managed a quick flutter of the eyes and a sound that was either, 'I'm fine' or 'Fry Spine' depending on how trained the ear was.

"Silvanus, he's awake!"

"Yay! Cespenar is so happy that the master is all right! Also happy Cespenar does not have to looks for a new job..."

The combination of voices was enough to give Greywulf even more of a headache than before- he managed to pull his eyes open, ignoring the queasy feeling in his stomach as he sat up with the aid of what was either his sister or a red-headed jelly... his blurry vision wasn't making it easy to tell. "Ow. Ow. I'm fine- ow. I'm guessing we won?"

"You tell us." Jaheira spoke, and the concern in her tone was enough to grab Greywulf's attention, despite his unfocused senses. "The last thing we saw was a wave of magic overtake the ruins of Saradush, emanating from your battlefield. Greywulf, what happened to you?"

What *had* happened? It was all such a blur... such an indistinct blur in his mind. They had won, hadn't they? Yaga-Shura... yes. The fire giant was dead. The heart had been placed in his chest, just as they'd planned- _razor sharp claws on a half-human-half demon arm ripping through flesh, blood splattering everywhere-_ the image sent Greywulf's stomach plummeting, and it didn't take long for him to realize just what he'd done. Found the balance of Slayer and mortal... a fusion of demon and man that used the power of the taint and the Slayer without giving into its urges of darkness.

He'd done the impossible... what Gorion had told him couldn't be done. What Jaheira had told him couldn't be done. Keldorn. Imoen. What Sarevok had failed to do. That thought in particular- no. Not yet... the others wouldn't understand. They wouldn't believe him if he told them he had it under control. He was still planning on giving up the power of Bhaal, if at all possible. But until the opportunity arose... he was mastering the taint. Mastering it and using it, just as the other Bhaalspawn would be doing. With this power at his fingertips... he could protect them all.

"Greywulf?"

Imoen's words tore him from his introspection, as his gaze shot to her, inhaling sharply. "I... sorry. I guess I'm still out of it. I remember... Yaga-Shura dying."

"Obviously- otherwise we would not have been pulled back here." Jaheira interrupted. "But what about... you?"

For a moment Greywulf panicked- he thought that perhaps some of him was still part-demon, that his left arm was a massive reddish-black claw, or that his mouth was a row of needle-like teeth. The truth was much more... interesting. His robes were shredded, barely hanging together... a result of his body's shifting and changing when becoming the hybrid-Slayer. What was left hanging on him was covered in blood and gore, as was the rest of his skin. He looked like he'd been bathing in an abattoir. He paused for several long moments, trying to figure out the best way to explain it all-

"The Arrow of Detonation... how close were you when it hit?" Imoen said in realization. "That would explain why you're so out of it- the concussion of the blast probably knocked you silly. And it must've hit Yaga-Shura straight on, showering you in all this lovely mess... I actually made that shot? Greywulf, I am never gonna let you forget this. Or anyone. Because that shot I made was absolutely *ridiculous*."

"Yeah... yeah, that sounds right." Greywulf murmured, thanking Imoen silently for her quick imagination. So what if he let them believe a lie for a time? It wasn't hurting anyone... and they weren't ready for the truth. Not yet. "I remember being knocked to the ground, being showered with... bits and pieces. All I could do was crawl towards his body and use the heart. Everything after that is a blur, I'm sorry..."

"So long as you are all right, that is all that matters." Jaheira leaned close, embracing him lightly for a brief moment, before glaring at their surroundings. "Perhaps, now that your mind has had time to clear, you might be able to help us find the others?"

Slowly Greywulf began to take in the situation around him... his eyes narrowed in uncertainty- what the hell? "Where are they? What's going on-"

"I shall clear your plane of distractions and answer your questions- your preparation must not be delayed."

The commanding booming voice filled the air around them and immediately the fog that surrounded the area burned away in a haze of light and divine power. All three mortals raised their arms to shield themselves from the sweeping presence that nearly overwhelmed them, but in the midst of the fading glory stood the angelic form of the Solar, pure and bright as the morning sun once more.

"Imoen! Greywulf! You're okay!" a call from across the newly revealed plateau of the demonic plane they inhabited drew their attention as Aerie drew close from one side, Minsc and Sarevok scattered nearby as well, slowly reuniting with the rest of them.

The Solar looked down with what might have been approval... or perhaps it was simple disinterest. Regardless, the blue-skinned figure folded her arms, bright wings following suit as they folded up and tucked in tight behind her. "I have suppressed the chaos and turmoil that kept you and your companions separate, god-child... but when I leave, it shall return as it was, until you take command, as you once did."

"Wait... what? I don't understand." Greywulf frowned, glancing up at the angelic warrior. "You mean the Pocket Plane... I know I had some ability to control it in the past, but-"

"It is a reflection of your subconscious, of the underlying power and taint you carry within you." the Solar cut him off, raising her arms and gesturing all around them. "Where once your powers were ordered, structured, now it has been thrown into chaos. My task here is not to help you discover what has caused this, but to prepare you for what lies ahead. Tell me, are you ready to continue your training?"

"It would appear that heaven waits for no man... nor hell, in this case." Jaheira muttered, glancing at Greywulf as he regarded the Solar cautiously.

"I do not believe I have much of a choice, do I? You mean to 'prepare' me for whatever it is that awaits whether I like it or not. I assume whatever you plan to speak pertains to Imoen as well? I'm not the only Bhaalspawn here, you know."

Imoen snorted, taking a few steps back, "No thank you- I don't want any part of this divine business. Never did. Not even with a messenger like this one- ah, no offense."

The Solar turned to look at another of the party... but not Imoen. She turned her gaze to Sarevok and pointed at the Deathbringer, his arms folded as he met the Solar's stare with a glare of his own. "You... you may no longer possess the full taint of a god-child, but you may yet play an important part in the tale of the Bhaalspawn."

"Should I feel honored? Impressed that a being so mighty has taken notice of me? It would have been I that commanded armies like you had my bid for power not failed. Speak your words and be done with them, for I care little of your attentions." Sarevok growled, showing no fear of the creature towering over him.

If the Solar was offended by Sarevok's tone, again, she showed no sign of it. Instead, she merely lifted eyes to the green-lit sky as magic began swirling around them, orbs of light rising and sinking through the ground like raindrops of power. "Both of you have been brought to this place for the simple reason that you are ready. The first step towards the fulfillment of your destiny has been taken. Yaga-Shura is dead by your hand, and the forces in play now move swiftly toward conclusion. And yet the essence of your plane, the reflection of your subconscious shows you more divided and in chaos than ever. To defeat the evil that ravages the land, you must find yourself whole. You must know yourself and your past to reveal your future. Listen and be judged."

Lightning rained all around the Solar, though it did not dissuade Greywulf or Sarevok- the two men stood still as the others shied back, wary of the blasts of power... until the two men were hit at the same time, transformed into the essence of the plane, shifting and changing as the Solar spoke, as much to the companions of the god-spawn as to the ones she held in her power themselves.

"To look upon oneself and ask, 'What is my nature,' one must know one's origin." the Solar raised her right hand, and the energy of the sorcerer half-elf poured from it, flickering in and out of reality as it took shape in so many different ways and forms. Those watching squinted into the light, taking note of the shapes, some familiar, some not. Some images were that of a young man, at times a human, at times an elf... scarred and ruddy in one flicker, pale and slim in another. "Your own origin is a mystery to you, god-child. You have no beginning...and without a beginning, how can there be an ending? And yet, it is around you that the ending is woven. Around you that the destinies of the others who travel within this path take their cues."

Without warning, brilliant yellow beams of energy leapt from the Solar's eyes and zig-zagged out to strike Imoen in the chest. The thief-mage had no time to yell or scream before she disappeared in another flash of light. Minsc would have leapt to her defense had she not reappeared alongside the shifting forms of Sarevok and Greywulf, a spinning triumvirate of power that eventually came to a halt, Greywulf atop the pyramid with Imoen and Sarevok at the lower corners. "Look now, upon your siblings- see how their forms twist and shape depending upon your fate. It is you who directs their course, not the other way around. You who guides the paths of destiny."

As Greywulf's form flickered and changed, Imoen and Sarevok did the same. Greywulf settled into the young man he had been nearly four years prior- Imoen shifted into the body she had worn alongside him in Candlekeep, while Sarevok morphed into the armored hulk that had haunted their dreams after slaying Gorion. Greywulf changed again- a grizzled human face with scars that spoke to far too many battles, and beneath him were a leather clad archer, her hair left long and down to her back, and a bare-chested Sarevok, one eye blind and a scar running all the way down his bald head. They shifted again, and again, and again, each time becoming something new and something different until their forms took full shape in golden light, ramrod straight with backs to one another, floating high as they spun slowly in the air above.

"Yet of all the things that shape the future, how much can be blamed on you, yourself? How much was decided for you before you even had the will to make it so? Take the circumstances of your birth... those were never in your ability to change. Yet you know nothing of who your mother was, or of how Gorion brought you to the safety of Candlekeep."

The Solar raised her arm and the essence of Imoen faded from the ethereal and phased back into the present, while the Solar's form began devolving into something far different. She began shrinking, her wings shriveling and blowing away in the wind as her skin color faded from iridescent blue to a pale flesh tone. Her mane of blazing golden locks gave way to simple brown hair, and her eyes no longer held the power and authority of the gods- but they held something else. Something... sinister. Her armor was replaced by dark robes, emblazoned with the seal of Bhaal, a grinning skull surrounded by tears of blood, crimson stained on black cloth. She stood before the still rotating forms of Greywulf and Sarevok, even as they separated and floated across from one another, one on each side of her body.

"I am your mother. I am Alianna, a disciple of the great Lord of Murder, one of the priestesses of Bhaal. In the Time of Troubles did Bhaal himself come and whisper in mine ear." The transformed woman said triumphantly, glancing at the others as though daring them to make an accusation for her freely admitted deeds. "I was to give birth to one of the Children. To you. I rose my arms up and hailed my Lord of Murder with great joy at my fate. Others of Bhaal's order took me away, to hide us in the darkest temple away from prying eyes. Others of the Children were there...and when our great Bhaal died did we begin our task."

"Task?" Aerie whispered, trying to hide the sudden dread that rose within her. The passion, the vehemence in this reborn woman was far too real for her, even if it was simply the Solar reenacting the past. Before she could say more, Greywulf's body blazed with light and split into two forms- his own stoic body and a slowly solidifying man, hooded and cloaked... but as he unhooded himself, familiar to all present. Not nearly as elderly as he had been from their memory, Gorion stood tall, his quarterstaff in one hand as he pointed an accusing finger at the figure of Alianna.

"Her task was to slay her own child, sacrifice her babe upon the bloodiest of altars." the disgust in his voice was thick, and Imoen had to resist the urge to reach out to him- for all the times their enemies had tried to use Gorion's face, his figure as a method to instill doubt within them, to gain an advantage... it seemed so real, here. Perhaps because it was somehow part of Greywulf? Made flesh from his memory and the Solar's power? No... Imoen pulled her hand back, trying her best to simply listen.

"I would slay you, my child," Alianna nodded her head solemnly, showing no hint of remorse or regret for this deed. "Through your death and the deaths of every other babe, Bhaal could live again. Your only purpose in life was to die for Bhaal. Nothing else mattered. Not you. Not I."

"But I and several of my colleagues had discovered the location of this temple." Gorion cut her off stubbornly, raising his weapon as though to attack her in the presence of everyone there. "We struck fast, quickly. The full might of the Harpers was wrought upon the priesthood of Bhaal, and together we stopped your mother from performing the sacrifice."

"But we resisted!" Alianna hissed, and their gazes locked, a fire in both of their eyes that could not be quenched. "This was the will of Bhaal, father of my child. I could do no other."

"They were many and their magics were strong." Gorion slowly lowered his weapon, his rage subsiding as he looked upon Alianna with a cold dispassion. "We had little time, and I killed the priestess guarding the children myself."

"He slew me, your mother!" Alianna screamed, her form beginning to dissolve as Gorion began to age before their eyes, finally taking the form Imoen and Greywulf had known him as for most of their lives. Jaheira blinked once, twice, trying to keep her head clear. Gorion- the battle between Harpers and Bhaal-worshippers that changed the destiny of so many. This was all so... no. It was in the past. Her future... and Greywulf's was yet to come.

"I rescued you," said Gorion with a gentle smile, turning to glance at Imoen before then looking back at Greywulf. Still, his smile faded quickly. "And yet, I was forced to flee from the temple even as many other Bhaalspawn babes died around me."

The godly power that had indwelt the form of Alianna reformed, this time swirling around Sarevok's ghost form, the two mingling until they were one, the form of a small child with hard eyes and ruddy features, a snarl on his lips and strength in his posture that most children lacked. When he spoke, it was a mixture of Sarevok and the Solar's tone all at once. "But not all of us died that day. Not all the children were sacrificed, or simply perished in the battle waged for our destinies. Some used the chaos to escape, to flee."

"Yes," Gorion nodded, and shame crossed his proud brow. "Though not all the Bhaalspawn children died that night, I saved the only one I could. The only one I could reach before the very foundations of the Temple we fought amidst were torn asunder and brought low. Whether you believe or not... I saved the only one I could."

"Believe? I believe you, old man." the child spat, pointing accusingly. "There was no time for more. But I was there, as well. I was there!"

"And he chose Greywulf..." Imoen whispered, her vision shaking as the whole point of the Solar's message was made clear to her, and the rest. For all the power and destiny that Greywulf commanded, for all the tug and pull that forced those around to trail in his wake of power... the very fact he stood in their midst instead of Sarevok was a twist of fate. A stroke of luck or fortune. "It could just as easily have been Sarevok, couldn't it...?"

Sarevok blazed with power, shifting to a familiar form of bladed gauntlets and hulking armor that towered over the old man like a giant before an ant. His sword trembled with power as he unsheathed it and pointed it directly at Gorion, the old man doing nothing to defend himself. He lowered his head as though accepting his fate as inevitable while Sarevok spoke. "He left me behind, saving Greywulf instead. And so I fled on my own, raised by foster parents in the Iron Throne. It mattered not. I killed Gorion in the end."

The blade pierced flesh and Gorion exploded in a million particles of light, followed quickly by Sarevok's figure. All the forms and figures began reassembling in their respective constructs, the Solar reforming first as Greywulf and Sarevok were made flesh once more on either side of her. Both appeared gasping, heaving from the sudden shock of the multiversal transformation- both glared at one another with wariness... and an understanding that had never been between them before. The divine warrior descended to the ground, her form once again made clear in all its glory. As her feet touched the rocky soil below, she raised her hands, palms up as though presenting her case to the gods.

"And so your past is made plain. Your relationship with Sarevok, your immortal foe, destined to be at odds with you. Your mother's dark secrets, now laid bare. A priestess of Bhaal, killed by Gorion." The Solar paused, lowering her arms and looking at Greywulf with as much curiosity as she had shown in the past. "What do you have to say of this, god-child? Does this knowledge, this revelation carry any weight in your path? Does it change the fiber of your being, or is it simple fact to be analyzed and discarded?"

"What do you want me to say, Solar?" Greywulf said hoarsely, trying to keep his emotions under control. So much, all at once... it wasn't going to be easy to hide the boil of emotions just beneath the surface of his exterior. "That I wish my mother hadn't tried to kill me the day I was born? That I'm glad Gorion killed her before I even got a chance to know who she was, or who I was? I don't know. Damn you for showing me all this..."

"Greywulf..." Minsc tried to speak, but the Solar would not brook interruptions from the observers and hushed him with a booming question that echoed through the chamber, and yet seemed little more than a whisper, so focused and intent were her words. "And what of... him? Your brother of blood, Sarevok. What if fate had not intervened and Gorion had raised him rather than you? Would you have become as he was? Would Sarevok be in your place, now, if but for the smallest twist of fate? Is there a debt between you, then, that is yet unpaid?"

Sarevok and Greywulf's eyes met again, but the Solar apparently did not expect an answer. "I will leave it between you to decide the answer to that. For now, face your second challenge, and continue upon your path. Consider everything that you have learned here. You must be ready when the time comes. Farewell, god-child."


	26. Part 1: Family Feud

_Author's Note: Well hey, look at that, I'm alive. Yes, I know, it's been two months since the last update. Not exactly what I had in mind either. On the plus side, I'm now a full time manager at the Frito-Lay plant in Vancouver, so take comfort in knowing that for every day I don't write more of the story, I'm helping make delicious chips. (Buy Frito-Lay). Ok, enough shameless plugs. We are just about through Part 1- if you're still with me, thanks so much and hey, drop a review if you're feeling generous!_

"I know what you're thinking. You're brooding again. It's pretty easy to spot."

Anomen tried to ignore Solaufein's comments as the pair covered the party's flank in the hike leading back across country, leaving behind the swamps and forests of the druid grove, moving from plains and grassland to hill country that signaled the border of the coast-line. Once they had reached the beach itself, they could follow the path straight south until they came across the fortress they sought. Still, gazing into the sun-lit plains only made it that much more obvious that Anomen's thoughts were turned inward. After all, having seen three or four hours of grass and wheat fields, it was scarcely exciting to examine another forty acres of the grain.

"Yes... definitely brooding. I remember from our brief tenure in the Order together... his nose was downward so often that the other knights used to joke about him crashing into the statues in the Order Hall. As I recall, it was not simply a joke after a time... once you barreled straight into the marble image of Torm-"

"That will be quite enough, Reynald." Anomen sighed, trying to keep his companions at bay as they moved to each side of him. "I am not brooding, simply thinking. There is a keen difference-"

"And you are most certainly engaging in the former." Solaufein cut in quietly, his features hid 'neath the hood that shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight, but a hint of a smile could be made out underneath the shadows. "By Eilistraee, you're so downcast that it's depressing to even me."

Anomen glared as harshly as he could muster, hoping it would be enough to dispel their curiosity, or attempts at jest. It did neither, as the pair stayed by either side of him. At least Nalia had not been too interested in the so-called conversation that was taking place, although her serious nature made such banter unlikely to begin with. She was far at the lead of their group, keeping watch for any danger that might approach while the others hung back, some to watch the flank, some to be anti-social... and some to brood, although he would never admit it.

He took a sharp breath, doing his utmost to raise his head, look straight forward and ignore the both of them. It didn't work. "Ah, but I think I have it now. You're still upset over the outcome of our visit with the druid. Do not be so dispirited by his refusal to join us, for it is a small thing in the long run, methinks." Reynald rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking to Solaufein for agreement. Before he could say any more, Anomen cleared his throat quite loudly, speaking as succinctly and even-toned as possible.

"I need no consolation, if that is your intent, though from the childish grins you both sport, I very much doubt that is the case. I am simply thinking of our next course. Cernd's refusal to join our cause is not such 'a little thing', Reynald, and I should think you would realize it. Nalia is our only magic user, and while I might be able to call upon Helm's power for aid, we should be much better prepared if there were two spellcasters at our side."

Inwardly, Solaufein agreed- if not simply through the tactical sense that it made, then for his lack of trust in Nalia. But to ease both Reynald's spirits and to keep Nalia from suspicion of his own wariness he had chosen to relax his demeanor, to show no sign of anything but camaraderie and acceptance, such as it was for him. Still, it would've been nice to have the druid backing them up... and it was always fun watching Anomen get so worked up... though much like Anomen's brooding, he would never admit it.

"Ah, but surely worry for our safety is not simply the only thing that lowers your countenance." Reynald argued, his tone slowly taking a more serious bent as he gestured toward the others among them, his blue eyes meeting Anomen's as best he could despite the squire's refusal to look anywhere but straight ahead. "Though I would be the last to boast of my own prowess, surely all four among us have amassed more than enough experience in battle to handle whatever beasts or spirits this Keep throws at us. Speak plainly, friend, and let us be done with the prying. What troubles you, and how may we help?"

The former knight's tone no longer held any hint of jest or teasing, and Anomen was fairly certain that he was genuinely interested in seeing what was bothering him. His bluster about them being able to take on anything that Watcher's Keep held was nothing more than a show for Nalia's sake- oh yes, he saw how smitten the man was with her Ladyship- but it was a kind gesture regardless. He wasn't completely sure how to explain, however. He had, despite all of his boasts not a few months prior, never led men into battle. He had taken part in many fights among soldiers of the Order, and had fought under the command of the Bhaalspawn for a few weeks as well. But he had never led a group... and if he was being honest with himself, he wondered how Keldorn had done it so effortlessly, so commandingly.

"I am not him..." Anomen sighed quietly, but not enough to lose the keen hearing of his two warrior companions. He knew it too and immediately followed up, deflecting their certain questions. "Keldorn, I mean. He was the quintessential leader, a man who commanded loyalty, respect, a drive in his followers that would see them march with him into the depths of the Abyss itself if need be. In my younger, foolish years I thought myself up to the challenge of doing the same, if not better than he."

"And you think that Cernd's dismissal of your request for assistance a clear sign that you will never reach the state of your mentor?" Solaufein snorted with disbelief. "Perhaps you have lost too much of your old swagger if you are so easily discouraged. Have some backbone. You cannot expect every man, woman, and child you encounter to drop everything and join your cause."

"I did not expect that, Solaufein, and it is not truly what concerns me now. It is the responsibility of this fight we head towards... the knowledge that you have entrusted yourselves to my judgment, to my cause. We got to fight what is, arguably, the most important battle of my life. But it is just that... my battle, mine alone. The Order gave me leave to request aid from others, and I have done so... but still, I cannot help but wonder. What kind of power lurks within this Keep, such that the Prelate would place such priority upon sealing it?"

Striding through the fields of wheat, keeping watch for enemies or any other passers-by that would seek to accost them or do them harm, Nalia listened to her three traveling companions, and smiled. The power of the Watcher's Keep... yes, that was what she was waiting to hear. Not that she needed confirmation- her own independent research into the origins and legends surrounding the dungeon were enough to make her believe in the promises of power that dwelt within. Power beyond anything that she had grasped before. Power enough to not only withstand the attempts of the wicked to harm her Keep or her people, but power enough to withstand the reaches and probing of the Twisted Rune and then, eventually, take the fight to them.

She inhaled deeply, her whole body tingling with the thought. It was not lightly that she had made this decision to come with the others- she had not lied when she said that her Keep's needs outweighed any desire she might've had to help her friends, as close as they were. And the other nobles of Athkatla kept a close eye on the De'Arnise lands, especially considering its troubled history thus far- none of them would be particularly sad to see her go, if only because it would free up a small fiefdom to claim for themselves. Her powers of magic in the past were feeble, simple parlor tricks and cantrips that she thought would help legitimize her claims to power and give her followers something to focus upon, a strong leader who could protect them from the ravages of Firkraag, the Roenalls, or anyone else who threatened them.

And yet... it was not enough. Never enough. Too many times in the past, she'd been forced to rely upon mercenaries or fate to deliver them and with the Twisted Rune taking notice of her now... not this time. She had done everything possible to train herself to the utmost of magical perfection- hiring sorcerers, magicians, enchanters, or madmen, it mattered not- anyone who had a measure of spellcasting talent that was more powerful than she, it had become her obsession to find them and have them train her, teach her until she could overcome them in a duel. Being the private tutor of a noblewoman had many benefits, and Nalia had made certain that each one's price was met. Some desired money for their services, others power, and still others just the thrill of teaching a pupil so eager. Some had been audacious enough to request a reward of her that she had not been willing to give- a night with her in the bedchamber. Those who made the request were... reminded, to put it lightly, of what was and was not proper court etiquette, and kindly escorted out of her Keep.

Nalia smirked at the thought of one of her 'trainers' and how shocked he had been when she had ordered him to the dungeon after his lurid, eyebrow waggling request. The smug bastard had changed his tune rather quickly after a few nights below. It mattered not how she had gained her power... the end result justified it. She would protect her people and her lands, and nobody would dare strike the De'Arnise home again, not while she yet lived and breathed. And whatever wonders awaited within the halls of the Watcher's Keep... those would cement her hold. The books and legends she had read spoke of all manner of treasures within... gold and jewels for the more simple minded, but for those who had the eye... spells and enchantments that would make the legendary Crom Faeyr pale in comparison. One machine in particular, built by someone named 'Lum the Mad' had caught her eye...

X X X X X X

"Are we really talking about this right now? I don't- no, no- we're not doing this right now, we're not. I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine here now, thank you."

"You most certainly did not look fine a few moments ago." Jaheira argued, her stubborn streak as unrelenting as ever. "Would you just- stop being such a childish fool!"

"I'm not being childish." Greywulf protested, gently pushing away any attempt from the rest of the group to approach him. "Imoen, tell them. I'm fine. You're fine, right? We don't need to stop a moment and talk about this."

"Nope." Imoen said quietly, both refusing to get involved, but at the same time, the hesitation in her eyes and the change in her demeanor reflecting a conflict deep inside. Greywulf knew that their experience with the Solar, the revelation of their mutual pasts... she needed to talk about it, needed to get her feelings out in the open... but not now. He couldn't afford to let that kind of emotion free- couldn't lose control now. Later, when things were quieter, when he had mastered the boiling sea beneath his surface...

"I agree with my siblings, as rare as it may be." Sarevok growled, pushing off a demonic pillar he had been watching the small ruckus from leaning upon. "There is nothing gained by debating what has happened, or whatever fanciful visions were shown us. Action is all that matters now. And you, brother, have another challenge room to face. I suggest we make ready for battle and forget all this nonsense."

Sarevok turned on his heel and stalked to wait by the newly made opening in the cavernous platform, his glowing yellow eyes flickering like candles in the darkness from afar. Jaheira grit her teeth, glancing back at the Deathbringer before trying to reach out to the sorcerer once more. "Greywulf... are you certain? I know that what you faced just now could not have been easy... do not shut me out. Do not shut *us* out..."

Greywulf paused, inhaling deeply before trying to smile, only seeming partially forced. "Look- all of you- I understand your concerns. I really do... but I'm fine. I don't need to talk about what I think about my mother trying to kill me as a child. My father was Bhaal- it doesn't get any crazier than that, you know? And Gorion killing her- I should be thanking him, all things considered. If he hadn't, then I wouldn't be here right now. So let's just drop it, go take care of whatever challenge this plane wants me to do, and we can get back to the fratricide."

Jaheira glared, eyes narrowing... then turned and left, Minsc and Imoen following close behind. Aerie stayed by his side, arms folded with a disapproving look. "That wasn't funny."

"I... I know." Greywulf admitted with a sigh. "I just didn't want to talk anymore. I still don't. Just... please trust me, Aerie. I know what I'm doing, even if it doesn't seem like it."

Aerie bit her lip for a moment, then steeled herself as Greywulf prepared to move past her- "I do trust you. But I don't trust Sarevok. And I don't think you realize what he's doing to you."

That got his attention- he turned his head, eyes meeting Aerie's with both questioning and... suspicion? She swallowed any hesitation and pushed forward. "I talked with him... he told me that he's planning on corrupting you. He wants you to be what he was before you killed him, and then he's going to follow on the tail of your power. Everything he does is meant to corrupt who you are, Greywulf... and I'm afraid he's succeeding-"

Greywulf's expression abruptly shifted- he smiled, and Aerie was unsure whether to be relieved by that. "Aerie... thanks for looking out for me. But you don't need to worry- I've known what Sarevok wants this whole time... he thinks he can mess with my head, change who I am... he's wrong. Let him say whatever he likes, so long as he stays in line."

"So you're not worried at all? You don't think that all the stuff he's told you, everything he's done has affected you at all?" Aerie tried to sound confident, but her courage was failing rapidly. She'd faced dragons, vampires, beholders and illithid, but trying to confront the man she nearly worshiped- the one she would still have done anything for- was like trying to cut through a glacier with a butter knife.

"Not in the slightest." Greywulf smiled, almost smirking. "I appreciate your concern, Aerie- really I do- but it's unnecessary. I know my limits and right now, I'm nowhere close to crossing them. Still, if it'll make you feel better, I'll apologize to everyone about the fratricide joke later."

She smiled weakly with a nod, following behind him, her worries not abating in the slightest. Greywulf cleared his throat quietly as they approached the group, motioning for them to follow as the six companions descended a torch lit stairway, the rock beneath their feet looking like it was moments from crumbling and giving way to the Abyss below. Aerie let herself slide close to Minsc, his presence comforting in this time of confusion and uncertainty for her... was it truly up to just her and Minsc to halt Sarevok's attempts at controlling their leader?

"Are you well?" Minsc asked quietly, or as quietly as he could manage in such a narrow space. Before she could reply, Aerie noticed Sarevok tossing her a smug glance, as though he knew precisely what was bothering her... and that there wasn't a thing she could do to stop him. Aerie grit her teeth, his self-assured confidence giving her a strength borne of anger and determination to fight back... and she wouldn't be fighting alone.

She turned to Minsc and whispered, "I'm fine. But after this is over, we need to talk..."

Greywulf stepped off the last stair into what looked like a fog filled room, closed and illuminated only by strange glowing fungi on the rocky walls. He raised his staff for defense as he slowly stepped in, turning left and right as he attempted to discern any traps or ambushes awaiting him. Granted, the whole room was borne of his subconscious and the taint therein, but that was no excuse to throw caution to the wind. The fog was thick, musty... nothing like the whirlwind that had obstructed their path and vision upstairs just an hour prior. The thought of what that strange haze meant gnawed at his mind, but he couldn't bother to focus on it. Too many things pulling his attention this way and that- he needed to settle down, find his center again. The rest could wait- this was all that mattered. And yet... he felt the anger rising within him again. Anger he'd pushed away after hearing the Solar's words- she dared insinuate that he and Sarevok were alike? That his brother could have been him if not for a twist of fate?

Imoen was close behind Greywulf, half for her own comfort, and half because she was still remarkably pissed over his last few words. 'Back to the fratricide?' Was this all just some joke to him? Both of them were good at making light of the serious, but she would never joke about something like that. Not with everything going on. Her anger blazed again, and once more, she tried to quell it. Ever since gaining a larger portion of the taint from Gromnir, fury had been rising inside her over the slightest things. This was just another outlet for that anger to rise within. And she knew it, knew it was the taint within that was driving this madness... but that knowledge did little to make it go away, which was strange in itself. Normally she controlled her emotions quite easily, hiding anything and everything, but right now... it was different. It was as though she wanted to leap onto Greywulf's back and slice his throat up with her blade... Imoen shook her head gently, hoping something would rise soon, something they could fight and kill... it would keep her from having to explain herself to the others for that much longer.

Sarevok's face still bore the slightest smirk as he touched down on the fog-driven arena... for that is what it was, no question about it. He'd seen enough of them to know what this place was meant for. The only question was when the threat would come. By all rights, he should quiet his thoughts, find the calm within he needed to sense his surroundings for danger... but he couldn't, somehow. Too many raw emotions pulling him this way and that. A bit of satisfaction in knowing how powerless that fool Avariel was to stop his plans. Annoyance at the way the ranger stuck by her side and propped her up. Without him she would've been died or faltered long ago. Disgust at how easily led Imoen was, and how despite all her weakness, all her pliability, the way she blindly followed her brother, she had survived longer than Sarevok and in fact, was the one responsible for his resurrection. Fury, jealousy at the truths that had come to light... Greywulf and he, so closely intertwined, so easily swapped if not for the split second decision of Gorion. It could have been him with the easy life. It *should* have been him.

Behind the three Bhaalspawn, a flash of light engulfed Jaheira, Minsc, and Imoen, trapping them behind a sheen of magic as the fog swelled for a moment. Those trapped within immediately whirled to face the magic wall that blocked them from their companions, then went to a defensive posture, backs to one another for protection. Or at least, they had done so for a brief moment, but now... Jaheira watched the three of them turn around, facing one another with slow, deliberate steps- her breath caught as she noticed the red glow to their eyes. Something had happened- and she feared what was about to occur.

"You. You!" Sarevok roared, drawing the Chaos Blade from its sheath and leveling it at Greywulf. "You exist to mock me! You took my plans for godhood from me, you took Tamoko, and now I find that you took the life that could have been mine! I would have given much for a father like Gorion- but you took it all! You had everything and still you torment me, proceeding on to power that should have been mine!"

"I took *your* power? I took *your* life?" Greywulf spat back, flame erupting in his hand as he diverted Sarevok's charge with an explosion at the Deathbringer's feet. "They were NEVER yours! It was mine- you could never have done what I've done! You're a joke, a failure who can't handle the competition! All this power I've amassed- I earned it all! I've always been your superior, and I'll show it by killing you again!"

He stepped forward to follow up, to attack Sarevok while the bigger man stood resolute, the fire diverted by his Red Scale Armor- a fierce gale wind threw both Greywulf and Sarevok into the rock wall surrounding the area, Imoen walking towards them with hatred in her red, burning eyes. "Who are either of you to claim power?" she seethed, pointing at Greywulf first as a flurry of magic missiles erupted from her hand and exploded against the sorcerer. "I gave up everything for you to have a shot at the Throne! I would've let you have it all, and the only thing I ever wanted was your protection, to know you would keep me safe. What did I get? I got my soul stolen, my memories stolen-" Imoen paused as she gripped Greywulf in a Bigby's Crushing Fist, picking him up and punctuating each word she shouted with the tremor of her pounding him into the rocky ground. "You will NOT steal my power!"

As a lifeless Greywulf crumpled to the ground, she turned her wrath on Sarevok, raising both hands as the ground beneath the Deathbringer began splintering and shaking, "And you! You wouldn't even live if it weren't for me! You're nothing!"

Sarevok leapt from the earthquake and swung his weapon at her neck, but the jump was off uneven ground- it was just short and Imoen rolled away at the last second, coming up with lightning in her hands. She hurled bolt after bolt at the Deathbringer, Sarevok forced to use the magic of his blade to deflect the energy, his boots sliding back across the rock with each impact of power. Inwardly, she could hear the shouts and cries to stop from her companions hidden behind a magical barrier, unable to interfere... but it didn't matter. All that mattered was taking out her rage upon this... monstrosity before her.

"You... are weak!" Sarevok grunted, trying to hold his ground against the enraged wizardess. "You were always- agh!- weak. Hiding behind your brother, never having the courage to do anything on your own. You should have stayed behind him- because now you die!"

He swung his blade at an incoming bolt of lightning, the enchanted edge slicing the crackling energy in two, both pairs deflecting around the room- one returned and struck Imoen in the arm. She cried out, staggering back as her whole arm went numb. He covered the distance between them in brief moments, and his sword came around to bisect her- a sheen of magic erupted around her as her own magical protections activated, an Improved Mantle keeping her from harm. Sarevok smirked as he dropped his blade and instead grabbed her in both arms, holding her in a bear hug meant to squeeze the life from her. Imoen cried out as the pressure increased, the Mantle spell keeping any damage from occurring to her body, but slowly, surely... couldn't breathe-

"No!" Minsc cried out, banging a fist against the magic barrier that separated them all. "Boo does not understand what is happening, but you will not harm Minsc's friends! RAAAGH-"

The sound of the big ranger beginning to slip into a berserker fury was cut off by the ignition of a Cone of Cold, setting Sarevok awash in ice as the intense flash-freezing caused his newly immobilized limbs to release Imoen. She rolled away from him to the ground as he attempted to struggle out of the ice, but he found himself unable to budge, his strength overcome by the fury of the elements. Imoen thrashed at the frost and ice that had slowly been creeping across her skin as well, swearing as she broke a layer of ice on her arm that had been turning her skin blue. Greywulf let the spell expire as he climbed to his feet, cuts and gashes covering his face, nose bleeding profusely from the severe beating. "She's *mine*." he snarled, raising a palm at Imoen with glowing green energy building inside.

"You?" Imoen sneered, clutching her arm where all feeling had been numbed. She spoke an incantation and her body glowed with energy, absorbing the power of the Disintegrate spell Greywulf had hurled her way. Protection from Magic- Greywulf seethed with rage. If that was how she wanted to play... he began the words to a Tenser's Transformation, his body beginning to shudder and grow with power. Imoen cursed and backpedaled, stepping past Sarevok's frozen form as she hurried a spell of her own. Several meteors began circling her body, and with each gesture one of them flew at Greywulf as he charged towards her, his massive form taking each attack in stride, letting the flaming rocks explode against him. Imoen realized far too late that her strikes would not hold him- she began another spell, knowing it would be too late to work-

Sarevok broke from his glacial prison with a roar, tackling Greywulf around the back of the knees, toppling him to the ground with a monstrous shake. Sarevok crawled to his feet, mounting atop the back of the transformed sorcerer with crazed rage in his features. Half his face was whitish and blue, suffering greatly from the deep cold he had endured- one eye was still covered in flecks of ice stained with red, ruined and blinded. Sarevok grasped Greywulf's head with both hands, and before the sorcerer could do a thing, he gave a sharp twist. The crack echoed far too loudly, and as Greywulf's lifeless body collapsed to the ground, all Aerie could do was scream.

Sarevok's laugh mingled alongside the cries of rage and despair coming from Jaheira, Minsc and Aerie- and just as quickly, it ended. Imoen hurled her spell, and an explosion of brown smoke erupted all around the Deathbringer. As it cleared, all that remained was a dried out husk of a skeleton, the red dragon scale armor Sarevok had worn crumbling and rusted. The Horrid Wilting spell had left both Greywulf and Sarevok's bodies as naught more than ashes...

The world strobed again, and Imoen gasped for breath, the ground spinning as she stared down into it. She was on her hands and knees in the center of the room, one corner of a triangle composed of her, Sarevok and Greywulf. Both of them looked up from their stupor, each one recoiling reflexively. "I... Greywulf?" Imoen whispered, looking at her brother, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before the rest of their companions arrived, Minsc and Aerie pulling Imoen away while Jaheira had Greywulf, looking him up and down to see his injuries- gone. The cold burns from their spellcraft, the broken bones from Sarevok's strength... all gone.

Jaheira tried to talk, but a crack in her voice stopped her. She paused, fighting back... anger? Sadness? She tried again, doing her absolute best to keep a calm and even tone. "We will discuss everything privately."

Greywulf nodded dumbly- he could do nothing else. The six of them slowly left the room, none seeing as the fog inside was sucked out like the gust of an air elemental... none saw the craggy rock comprising the wall shift and reform itself into the faces of monsters and reptilian eyes.

X X X X X X

"Hmm. From your softening gaze, it would almost seem as though you did not think I could be trusted. I'm not certain as to whether or not I should be offended, General."

Mellissan smirked as Tombelthen surveyed the oasis that he and his army had arrived at- a single source of water and relief from the overbearing sun in the barren desert that led south from the Marching Mountains. He did not bother to look down at the woman who had accompanied them, guided them to this desolate place. "I would have been a fool to not carry some hint of mistrust for your words, no? To blindly trust someone who has spent years protecting the Bhaalspawn... you could have easily led us to an ambush by these monsters. You still may have."

Mellissan laughed again, her tones light and merry, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath her words. "General, please. If I had wanted to ensnare you and your men, do you think I would allow myself to be held at your side through this whole ordeal? You would have my head at the slightest hint of betrayal, wouldn't you?"

Jamis Tombelthen snorted once, watching his men unload their tents and prepare their camp for the foreseeable future before turning to finally look at Mellissan. "Do not mistake my hospitality for leniency. You promised that you would help us track down the rest of the god-children before they brought further devastation to the Realms. In return, you have already been well compensated- and despite what my reputation may be, I take no pleasure in this task that has been appointed to me. Many innocents will die if I invade town after town to hunt these devils down. If you can deliver upon your promise and bring them to me, out here where nobody may be harmed, Faerun might be spared further destruction."

She smirked a touch- it made Jamis angry. He spoke in cold tones that would make any of his men freeze in their tracks. "Is there something that amuses you?"

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to make light of your situation." Mellissan composed herself, keeping her voice even and her features neutral. "I simply found your use of the word 'innocents' to be... ironic. There are no innocents in war... especially not when dealing with the Bhaalspawn. I learned this the hard way at Saradush, and that is why I aid you now."

He relented slightly, turning his back to her. He squinted at the glare from the sun off the clear waters of the oasis, watching the heat ripples distort everything on the horizon. "You said that the wards of Gorion were the most dangerous, yes? I agree with your assessment- but from everything we found at Saradush, it would seem that they died in the same magic explosion that decimated Yaga-Shura's army. There was nothing left but ashes... what makes you think they will show up here?"

"Their leader has a knack for escaping certain-death situations." Mellissan replied, undoing the clasp that held her hair up and letting the red mane flow behind her before folding her arms. "He is hunting the rest of his siblings- they exist somewhere south of the Marching Mountains... or so I am told. These were the god-spawn that refused my aid, the ones I sought to protect my charges from. Imoen and Greywulf hunt them, and if they are to reach the god-children through the desert, they will have to pass by this oasis to survive. Disguise your encampment as nothing more than traders, and they will come right into your trap where you may slay them with ease."

Tombelthen grunted once, nodding in acceptance of her plan before descending the sand dune they'd been watching his men work from, making sure that they did what was necessary to keep their true purpose hidden from anyone at distance. Mellissan watched him, wondering just how many of the General's men would die trying to kill the wards of Gorion before the two of them retreated. Wondering if the General would ever know just how badly he was being played. Wondered if, by some mystical twist of fate, Tombelthen actually managed to kill Greywulf, how long his decimated army would last against a force comprised of dragons and drow...

She smiled, then turned and strode down the opposite side of the sand dune. No, the army of Tethyr wouldn't kill Greywulf or Imoen, but the Bhaalspawn would be desperate then... more desperate than ever. And so very willing to take any help that she had to offer them... all she needed now was to let Greywulf know that through some mystical twist of fate, she had survived the destruction of Saradush, and draw him into this 'trap.' He would slay some of the General's army, and suddenly the one outsider in this web of hers would have a target, and leave her true pawns alone. After all, Tombelthen's forces were potent, and if allowed to remain at full strength, could hold their own against the other members of the Five. That was... unacceptable. They needed a new target, someone who would not necessarily slaughter them all, but who would weaken their numbers and draw them from hunting those she commanded directly. Greywulf and Imoen would do nicely...

X X X X X X

"Are you all right? C'mon, Imoen... don't shut us out..."

Aerie's pleading voice was like a buzzing in the back of the thief-mage's head as she sat on the cold stone, knees tucked up to her chest as she tried to find her composure, eyes squeezed shut. That... that had been horrifying. All of it, the rage, the battle... it was like a hazy, red-filled dream, but one which she could remember with astounding clarity. She could still see the fuzzy darkness creeping around the edges of her vision as Sarevok's grip had forced the air from her lungs. She could feel the chill as Greywulf had entombed his brother in ice. Could hear the crack of Greywulf's neck as the Deathbringer finally did what he had set out to do so long ago.

"Gah!" Imoen cried out, tearing her mind away from those awful memories, head snapping upwards as she tried to breathe deeply. She met Aerie and Minsc's concerned faces, the big ranger holding her hand inside his massive palms. She tried to put on a brave face and smile, but it was weak and obviously forced. "I'm... I'm okay, guys. Thanks."

"Imoen, you're not okay." the Avariel knelt down to face Imoen at eye level, her cream and blue colored robes pooling around her. "The things you said and did in there... was that you? I mean, did you..."

"Did I what? Did I mean all that stuff?" Imoen tried to scoff at that notion, only succeeding in coughing for a moment before pushing her way up and forcing her way out from between her two friends. "Of course not, y'buffleheads. I didn't mean a word of it... not a word."

Across their encampment, a similar scene was being echoed as Jaheira stood by Greywulf, watching him with a combination of worry and anger in her eyes. Greywulf had only looked up to meet that gaze once before immediately deciding it would be better to let his gaze drift to the ground as he sat, elbows lying across his knees. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"No. Do not try and deflect this discussion with feigned stupidity. You go into that room, fight Sarevok and Imoen to the death, and I am supposed to believe everything is well with you after it is over?" she said incredulously.

"Jaheira, what do you want me to say?" Greywulf sighed with resignation. "That I completely understand all the methods and ways that my Pocket Plane attempts to 'test' me? That I know why all of a sudden the only thing I wanted to do was kill Im and Sarevok? I don't have the answers you want, Jaheira... I wish I did, but I don't."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, then shut it again. The two remained in silence for a short time before Jaheira spoke once more, the anger and worry gone, but replaced with determination. "Then answer me this, truly, as your friend and your lover. Has the taint drawn a hold over you?"

_No, I've given it a hold._ The honest answer echoed in his ears moments after she posed the question. It was true... he'd willingly given the Slayer a small handhold to better make use of its power- he'd done it in order to kill Yaga-Shura, to save Imoen at the Temple in the Marching Mountains... and yet, he couldn't tell her. How could he? She was so firmly entrenched in her belief that the taint could not be mastered, that it would only enslave and destroy those who attempted to use it... he'd believed it for a long time as well. But now, learning from Sarevok's mistakes, actually directing its power in the battle against Yaga-Shura... he knew better. But none of them could know. None of them would understand- and that thought sent a chill down his spine. _When did I start hiding things from them? When did I start lying to all my friends about the taint? Could it be that I'm not as... as in control as I thought? That the Slayer is the one pulling the strings, not me?_

"Greywulf?" her words pierced the fog of uncertainty that had lowered about him, and he quickly shook his head, letting uncertainty bleed into his voice as he responded.

"I don't... I don't think so. Maybe sometimes, it's harder to tell... but I don't think so."

"I see." Jaheira nodded simply, and for a moment Greywulf was afraid she was going to call his bluff. "And... the fog? The strange fog that separated all of us when we arrived here last? Have you any clue as to what drew that out, what changed the Plane? You have some control over the way in which it manifests itself..."

Greywulf paused- he hadn't thought about it at all, really... but she made a strong argument. Right now the Plane was orderly, demonic and threatening, as it had always been. The strange haze that had overcome it before was... something else. The Solar had banished it when she arrived, said something at the time as well. What was it... "_Where once your powers were ordered, structured, now it has been thrown into chaos."_

His powers over the Plane apparently had splintered, fractured within his grasp. He had them back now, but still... again, another subconscious effect of his newfound acceptance of the power within him? Perhaps... yes. He could feel a small part of his mind focused upon keeping the Plane organized, keeping it as it should be. It was surprisingly easy... he exhaled, concentrating slightly- the rock he was seated upon morphed into a pair of raised pedestals that propelled him to his feet before melting back into the ground. "It's nothing... as you can see; I'm quite in control again. I think... maybe the shock of that Arrow of Detonation combined with being flung back into the Plane, Yaga-Shura dying right beside me..."

"Did his taint enter you as well?" Jaheira asked, and it was a good question. Greywulf couldn't remember, to be quite honest... killing the giant had been enough, and then the world had gone black.

"I don't know," he confessed. "Maybe. All I know is that I'm doing the best I can, Jaheira... I know it doesn't seem like much, but I swear that everything I'm doing, everything I've done is to keep us safe and to end this madness. You know me..."

Jaheira did not say anything to begin with, and it was an almost audible, _'Do I?'_ that flitted through her head. Still, she nodded quietly and as Sarevok observed from afar, the whole party slowly drifted toward their bedrolls, acknowledging the need for some rest after such a grueling challenge. He curled his lip in disgust at their weakness... granted, the immediate threat from Yaga-Shura had ended ,but if they did not take the offensive, move against the 'allies' of the fire giant, the ones Mellissan had promised to tell them of... he snorted again. Mellissan... gods only knew if she had survived the destruction of the city. If not, they would have to seek out their foes alone, a prospect which, while not impossible, would most certainly involve letting them gain an advantage, start hunting them down instead of the other way around.

He nearly spit in frustration, quickly and efficiently setting up his own bedroll for the night, far flung from the others, as usual. Lying down to where he could still see the others- just a precaution, of course- he tried to let his body slow, let the rage within him dissipate, but it was far more difficult this night. Whether it was just the adrenaline from his short lived and unreal battle with his siblings, or something else... or perhaps a mixture of both. Somewhere, deep inside, a part of him demanded to know the truth, even though he was quite sure it would be a truth he wouldn't like. Still, it was that same part of him that drove himself to be the very best he could be, to discover and peel away all the weakness within, no matter how much it would hurt to do so.

The truth was that he had enjoyed killing Greywulf. That every ounce of him had been in ecstasy upon snapping his brother's neck. It was something he'd longed to do for years, ever since the young upstart mage had begun entering his plans for taking the Throne of Blood. That truth was easy enough to swallow. He'd settled for taking power at his brother's side when Greywulf ascended, but it didn't mean the thought of killing him still didn't drift lazily into his mind every so often. The thought of being slain by Imoen... that was much more difficult. He'd taken her to be a childish fool, an annoyance gifted with power she didn't understand and was undeserving of. But her words... that bitter tone when she'd declared that the taint was hers alone and would not be stolen by either him or Greywulf... perhaps she had more strength, more ambition that he knew. And yet, she continued to hide it behind that disgusting mask of childish innocence. And the fact that part of her soul resided within him, gave him form... another truth he wished he could deny.

As much as he hated to admit it, he owed her a great debt. The only reason he was even given form was her sacrifice... not only that, but the link they shared was growing stronger, as her Bhaal-essence grew stronger too. He could feel the conflict within her, could feel how much she both loathed and desired the taint. When she grew pained, or angry, he could feel those emotions bleeding into him as well. Nothing debilitating, but it was definitely there. He knew secrets about her... secrets she'd not shared with anyone, perhaps not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't. How do you share the emptiness of having your soul ripped from you? How do you share the feeling of betrayal when you find out that the one you trusted the most took your very memories in order to protect himself? He felt all those and more. He knew her hopes, her dreams, her loves and hates, every primal urge and desire she felt eventually bled to him. It was something he'd learned to block out after a few days of meditation, but not something he ever could get rid of. A side effect he'd not considered when she volunteered to give him life. He also knew that every word she'd spoken to Minsc and Aerie, denying that she meant any of the words she'd said while under the influence of the Pocket Plane, was an outright lie.

The 'challenge' that Greywulf's subconscious had forced upon them tore every hidden desire and ambition regarding the taint to the surface of all three Bhaalspawn. It was pleasing to know that Greywulf hated him as much as he hated the sorcerer... and to know that Greywulf was beginning to regard the power of his blood as jealously as Sarevok had regarded his own. And yet... here was the crux of the matter, the truth that Sarevok feared and yet needed to confront to be at his best. While every little dirty secret that Imoen and Greywulf had wanted to hide were thrown to the light during their fight... the same was true of Sarevok. That he blamed Greywulf for stealing his power was enough to swallow... but to know that he still held feelings for Tamoko, still missed her in the darkest depths of his heart? That was... unexpected. He had thought himself far beyond feeling any further grief for her loss.

Greywulf and he had spoken in the past about Tamoko's defection from his ranks, how his path had driven her from his side... but he had thought they were responsible for her death. Greywulf had said that it was another who killed her... but Saradush's destruction had halted their conversation. All of a sudden, knowing what had brought her to an early grave, knowing who was responsible... it meant much more to him. If it wasn't Greywulf... that meant he would be free to pursue revenge upon them- a revenge that would be so much more horrible than anything he had dealt before.

Sarevok smiled with the thought... but that wasn't all. That wasn't the only truth he wanted to deny... the other words he had spoken during their challenge. Words of jealousy, of a desire for a family, a life like Greywulf's at Candlekeep. Surely that was an exaggeration... surely he wasn't jealous of the way Greywulf had been raised? He felt his teeth grinding as he tried to think of another explanation, but one again, the truth made itself real and burned as much as it healed. He was jealous. He wished for a life like Greywulf's. A father figure like Gorion- his foster father, Rieltar Anchev, had viewed him as a successor to the Iron Throne, and trained him thusly... there was never any 'love' in their relationship. No proud moments where Sarevok would have said he was happy to be the son of that man. No moments where Rieltar ever made Sarevok feel any joy. It was a simple relationship of give and take- Sarevok strengthened Rieltar's power base, gave him a successor to his empire... Rieltar gave Sarevok the opportunity to become the Lord of Murder through harsh, unforgiving training. The only joy he had felt involving Rieltar was when he had killed him.

Gorion though... Gorion had been a kindly man, one who had tried to raise Greywulf the best way he knew. A weak, pathetic existence, one that valued 'morals' and trite sayings beyond actual power or ambition. A waste of a child by any standard... and yet, if he could have traded places with Greywulf, if it could have been him rescued by the old man so long ago... Sarevok snarled again, turning over so he didn't have to face the others while he lay there. The Solar had stated that he and Greywulf only existed in these roles by the smallest twist of fate. He had disregarded the thought quickly, choosing to believe that no matter who had brought him up, he would have made his own path and strove for the power his blood offered... but was that the truth? He still didn't know... and slowly, quietly, the answer was becoming much more important to him.


	27. Part 1: A Little Help from My Friends

_Authors Note: Man, it's been a while. Patience is a virtue, right? Not sure how many of you are still reading, but if you are, then we just hit the halfway point. Part 1 is over and Part 2 will bring us to the end… thanks for sticking with me! _

Magic spun before Balthazar, forming the portals of communication that would bring to him the visage of his 'allies' in mere moments- he struggled to maintain his emotions, to keep them in check as the spells did their work. Unusual, for him. He was a monk, well versed in every art of self-discipline and every method of maintaining control. His body was a finely tuned machine, one he could manipulate and work with precision unrivaled by his fellow monks. And yet... here he was, trying not to smile, trying to keep his joy from showing. Yaga-Shura was dead.

The fire giant, the immortal one, the invincible demi-god whose power rivaled any of the Five with ease... was dead. The monk forced himself to concentrate, forced his lips to spread thin, flat, to show no emotion as Abazigal and Sendai appeared before him from their underground lairs... they stared at him with a mixture of curiosity, impatience, and boredom. He did insist on keeping them updated on his doings, such as they were, and such as he deigned to actually tell them the truth, just as they did the same for him. Naturally, never letting too much of their own stratagems out either. Still, it was like a chess game- reading people, reading his allies and seeing their moods, hearing their words, it was enough to give him some insight into what they were up to.

Like a game... the analogy was rather accurate. The opening move was always his- he held the keys for contact between them all, made certain that any contact between the Five directly passed through his portals of magic, was facilitated by his spells and rituals. And like any advantage, it had to be pressed if it was to be of any use. He had to keep the others from taking the offensive, demanding his time, his efforts rather than using them to expend their own. Balthazar spoke without warning, without hesitation. "Yaga-Shura is dead. The wards of Gorion killed him and his army at Saradush... and now they are coming for the rest of us."

He barely heard the snarl of disbelief, the futile swearing as he let them vent their sudden, unabashed ire and surprise. Pausing, waiting for them to regain clarity of mind and thought, knowing their reactions before they would. Oh yes, he knew his partners quite well... he had not joined with them on a whim. Weeks of study, spying, figuring just who they were and what they were after... how they would go about getting it. Mellissan had been helpful in her efforts, bringing them as one, and he had made use of her services for learning as much as he could of the rest of the Five. She claimed to the others that she was helping them share the power of Bhaal, and that her reward would be to serve as the high priestess of the new deities. She had told him that she wanted to end the threat of the Bhaalspawn, and that bringing him together with the rest of them would let the group dispatch the remaining god-children throughout the Realms, while he built his power base and then dispatched the others, in the end. Did he believe them, or her? Balthazar's mouth twitched as memories flashed across the open plains of his mind...

_ Mellissan 's features were well hidden behind the dark brown cloak she wore as the two of them strode down the halls of the Amkethran castle, dust and sand shifting beneath their feet in the desert wind. "I do hope you have taken my request seriously." her voice, only slightly muffled by the wrap that kept the dust from entering her nostrils and mouth as they came to an open-air platform near the top of the castle's highest tower, across the bridges that connected their lookout points. "I understand how this must sound-"_

_ "It sounds like you are ambitious. Willing to risk everything for your own goals, whether they be what you have said or not. For if you should fail, you can imagine what fate awaits you... from either myself, or those you plan to bring to ruin." he replied evenly, his own bald head glistening with sweat from the harsh sun beating down. He did not wear protection as she did- he was used to the climate and the swirling gusts did not trouble him. Physical discomfort was just that... physical. Something to be overcome in the mind. A monk such as he knew no such distractions... and distractions were not something he could afford, not when his spirit, his own soul already troubled him so. _

_ "You do not trust me fully, I see that clearly enough." Mellissan said with a tilt of her eyes, glancing towards him as they walked. "Why should you? I have brought little to bear except the ideas which I have already stated... but you find yourself intrigued nonetheless, don't you?"_

_ He did not reply, choosing instead to stop as they reached a covered section, the dome supported by pillars only half preventing the blazing sun from reaching them, but enough such that Mellissan removed her hood, revealing her sharp beauty beneath. "Balthazar... believe me when I tell you that we are on the same side. These Bhaalspawn that I bring to your doorstep- they are the most powerful in the land. If someone does not take steps to halt their advance, they will bring ruin to Faerun. Only by joining their ranks, by becoming part of the Five can you monitor their actions, learn their weaknesses... I am no warrior, no Bhaalspawn with the powers of a demi-god. I bring to the table only my skills as a mage and my desire to see this land freed of their influence. You claim to want the same..."_

_ "And why would they accept me as a part of this mad scheme?" Balthazar finally spoke, his proud bearing and deep voice leaving echoes through the wind-swept platform. "I have never shown a desire to amass the powers of Bhaal- my decision to come here, to raise this place into a fortress from which I could defend myself against my siblings was borne of necessity, not a lust for the blood of my kin."_

_ "Oh, but that lust is most certainly there, is it not?" Mellissan probed, testing the waters carefully, seeing just how tormented and strained the monk standing before her was. "All your life you trained to deny the evil within you, to hold yourself to a higher cause and be something you aren't. I offer you the chance to atone for every wickedness you committed against your will... to cleanse the Realms of not just your own evil, but that of every other Bhaalspawn. Will you not at least consider my offer? If not for yourself, then for the good of Faerun?"_

_ He glared once more, his eyes a window to the struggle within-_

"Enough of this." he commanded, momentarily silencing the two god-spawn before him. "Shall we simply bluster and boast of our strengths or will one of us end this threat before it claims all of our lives?"

"You are bold, to say such things while cowering in your fortress of rock and stone, behind an army of your sycophantic followers." Sendai sneered, her red eyes flashing with venom as she spoke. "I would ask how the fire giant fell to the wards of Gorion! His powers rendered him nigh-invulnerable... he could not have defeated Yaga-Shura without help..."

Balthazar did not reply, but kept his features calm and unmoving. Her implication was, of course, that Balthazar had somehow aided them, or at the very least had been plotting a way to kill Yaga-Shura himself. That was, naturally, true. He had been devising ways to get around the spells that protected the giant, as had the other members of the Five as soon as the massive barbarian had joined their ranks. Her accusations were little more than a way to appease her own anger and try to put him on the defensive. He would allow it... just another step in the game. Let the other player advance, let them think they held some kind of advantage... let them overextend.

"You are one to talk, Sendai!" Abazigal boomed, his draconian laughs echoing through the portal and all around. His scaled skin glistened in the low light, a reptilian gaze flitting between both of them. "My lair is displayed for the entire world to see, to assault should they dare! Now that Yaga-Shura is dead, it is I who will take flight to annihilate the remaining Bhaalspawn- the flames of my children will wipe this land clean, and all who oppose me shall perish."

The proud declarations and boasts of the half-dragon almost made Balthazar crack a smile... almost. How different, and yet completely oblivious the two before him were... Sendai, cloaked in shadow underground, amassing forces of duergar, drow, spiders and illithid, while Abazigal gathered every weak-minded drake and dragon to join his cause that he could. All hiding in their lairs, all boasting of their ability to kill those who stood against them... all unwilling to move without the assurance that they would not be left out to rot. Pathetic.

Of course, that didn't mean they couldn't be manipulated. It was true, Sendai's army was better suited for the darkness, to defend against invaders and repel those who would come after her. And Abazigal's threats of a dragon filled sky raining fire on the masses were not empty- it would be a terrifying sight indeed. One that Balthazar had to make certain did not come to pass...

Before the two Bhaalspawn could descend into their petty squabbles once more, Balthazar stepped in, raising a hand to calm them both. "I said enough. We will accomplish nothing like this. Our only recourse is to wait for Greywulf and Imoen to come to us. We must allow them to over-extend themselves, step into our traps, and then we shall have them at our pleasure."

"A coward's tactics." Abazigal growled, spitting harshly. "You would have my army cower behind rock and stone? We are not meant for such things-"

"Be silent, worm." Sendai purred, folding her arms and nodding to Balthazar. "The monk speaks wisely for once. It is as I have said all along- let them come and we shall annihilate them on our doorstep."

"I did not say this for your benefit, Sendai." Balthazar shot a brief glance her way before turning back to Abazigal... that sort of brief dismissal was sure to wound her oh-so-proud ego. "Your armies are not capable of battling the wards of Gorion on the open surface. They would be slaughtered with ease. Abazigal's, on the other hand..."

The dragon smirked as the drow voiced her fury, and Balthazar scarcely heard it all. Like puppets on a string- the Five... Three, now, were powerful and strong and could cause ferocious devastation had they a leader to guide their actions... only by the grace of the gods had he ended up as the one to mitigate their damage. The gods... and Mellissan. He wondered if she even lived, after the destruction of Saradush... but there was no time for such pondering. The rivalry between the remaining members of the Five was simmering just beneath the surface, and he had but to continue to stoke it, to let the two remaining waste their energy and talent. It would be some trick, however, figuring out how to slay Greywulf and Imoen, without the aid of the others... that part he had not quite figured out yet.

A sudden flash of light from his hand drew his attention, and Balthazar glanced down to note the ring he wore on his right hand glowed gently. The token Mellissan had given to him to trigger the communication portals, much like he had done with the other members of the Five. So... she was still alive after all. He wondered just how she had managed to survive the ruin of Saradush... he reminded himself that she was a mage and had powers beyond that which she showed, but it was not in his nature to simply accept things at face value. He would have to inquire as to the exact method by which she yet lived... but that was a matter for later. If there was any threat for him to focus upon, it was the remaining Bhaalspawn. And so Balthazar simply noted the signal, tapping the ring head gently to send the return spell, knowing that her ring would be acknowledging his presence even now- perhaps he would have some help in figuring this last piece of the puzzle out after all.

X X X X X X

"Oh, you have *got* to be kidding me." Imoen groaned as she raised her bow in anticipation. "Did we really walk into this? Again?"

"Yep. Looks like it." Greywulf tossed behind him, teeth only half grit as he raised his hands, fingers twitching slightly with the powers of a shield only a power word from materializing.

The six adventures were standing in a circle formation, backs to one another as almost three hundred men surrounded them, some with swords and axes, others with bows, and still more with magics and robes that suggested the powers of the arcane. "I will never understand how you two can make light of these kinds of situations." Aerie noted, doing her best to remain defiant in the face of such overwhelming odds.

"You know how it is... they can smell your fear. Give 'em bad puns and jokes instead, they might just get scared off. Probably not, but worth a shot, eh?" Greywulf replied, eyes flitting back and forth, waiting for the first sign of an attack. Still, despite his words, he really was quite befuddled as to how this had happened. Well, not the exact physical how... that much was clear.

They had left the Pocket Plane after a few more hours of much needed rest, even if none of the underlying issues that had been raised were dealt with. Sarevok was as silent and unreadable as ever, Aerie had remained close to Minsc's side, and Jaheira and Greywulf still were on uneasy terms. Imoen refused to speak to anyone about her actions in the testing room, and throughout everyone and everything remained a hint of mistrust and doubt regarding their emotions, their motives, their actions. Their quest though... that was clear enough. The map Mellissan had provided them with before they had fought Yaga-Shura had labeled an oasis in the midst of the desert south of Saradush that was an important way point on the way to the next two Bhaalspawn. She had promised to tell them where the final members of the Five resided after Yaga-Shura was dead, that she would meet them at the oasis and they would commiserate from there. Whether Mellissan survived the attack on Saradush or not was... uncertain. But they had no further leads, and this was the best they could do. So they made it their destination, traveling out of the ruins and southward until they passed from grasslands to sand, enduring the waves of heat and blazing sun until nightfall, when they transported back to the Pocket Plane to get some much needed rest and water conjured from Greywulf's god-powers.

This cycle had repeated for two days until the oasis had come into view- tucked into a valley of sand dunes, the inviting water was surrounded by a mass of tents and what looked to be a caravan of traders and merchants from distance. As they gazed down upon it at the crest of the overlooking dunes, Sarevok glanced to his brother and murmured, "Traders... or possibly bandits. Looking to take advantage of this refuge from those who fled south from Saradush, taking a bet that Yaga-Shura's armies would not follow into the desert. Be careful if we decide to approach."

"Or possibly Mellissan led a group of refugees from the city down here- I wouldn't put it past her... she's far more competent than she lets on." Greywulf acknowledged. "All right, let's head down there and find out if she's even here. But... keep your eyes open."

Not that it had made much of a difference. Everyone in the caravans, or at least, everyone who had been visible, was cordial, nodding simply when asked nonchalantly about what had brought them this way, and nobody had spoken a word of Bhaalspawn or war or anything that could have tipped them off. That in itself, naturally, should have been the tip off. Perhaps, had they questioned just why this group was so welcoming, they would have realized that it wasn't a caravan, or refugees at all, but an actual army... and they had fallen right into the trap laid for them.

"Bhaalspawn!" The shout echoed from behind the enemy lines, which parted to allow a tall, proud man through. He was clad in helm and full plate armor, his sword hefted in one hand, a shield in the other. The royal symbol of Tethyr was emblazoned upon his breastplate and his shield, and his bearing was that of a noble as he strode proudly to within a few yards of the adventurers he had ensnared. "For that is, after all, what you are, yes? Bhaalspawn? More specifically, the wards of Gorion, yes?"

"And what if I am? Greywulf tossed back, relaxing his stance for a moment to shrug. "Or what if I'm not? I'm quite sure you wouldn't believe me if I told you, 'No, this is all just a case of mistaken identity,' right?" Why don't you skip the questions you already have the answers to?"

The commander of the army paused for a moment, then nodded and smirked. "As you wish. I am General Jamis Tombelthen, representative of the King and Queen of Tethyr. You, Greywulf, and you Imoen, are accused of crimes against our nation and, indeed, all of Faerun!"

"Insignificant puppet." Sarevok sneered, his eyes flashing with disgust and rage. "You speak of things beyond your ken. These so called crimes are nothing more than the claiming of power by one who is beyond you in every way possible."

"Yeah. Antagonize the guy with an army backing him up. Real smart." Imoen rolled her eyes as she muttered under her breath, even as Jamis narrowed his and fixed upon Sarevok.

"You... your visage is familiar, but for some reason I do not remember- by the gods, can it be? Sarevok, butcher of the Gate? The spawn who tried to lead the armies of Amn and Baldur's Gate together in a bloody war? If you stand by the wards of Gorion, then I see no further reason to parley with the likes of you."

"Hold on a moment, General." Greywulf raised a hand, hoping to diffuse the situation before it came down to a brawl- one which, while he and his companions had faced similar odds and come out on top in the past, was not something they were hoping to repeat. "I'm not asking you to trust my word, and I'm certainly not asking you to trust Sarevok- he's here under my command and I can guarantee he won't be doing anything without my express permission."

Greywulf could feel the sneer creep across Sarevok's face with that last remark- he ignored it and kept talking, hoping that the General would be willing to listen. "I want you to think about what I- what we've done. I want you to think about our actions. We saved De'Arnise Keep from Firkraag and his orcs. We killed the Shade Lord at the Temple near Imnesvale. We even helped prevent, as you say, Sarevok from bringing the Gate and Amn into a bloody war that you might not have survived. Whatever things you've heard about me and my friends here... surely it can't be all bad. Surely you know how much good we've done."

Tombelthen paused a moment, frowning at the appeal being made by the Bhaalspawn before him. "'Tis true... you and your kind have proven benevolent in the past, if destructive. But it is in your very nature to murder- whether you believe it to be or not. For what it is worth, I do not relish my task of hunting you and the others down. But I have been given my orders and I shall not be derelict in my duties."

"A trial then? Is that what we have to look forward to? I have had far too many experiences dealing with rigged trials and pre-determined judgments." Jaheira spat, memories of Galvarey and the Harpers assuredly flashing before her eyes.

"Nay... there will be no trial. The Bhaalspawn and those who travel with them are guilty, of that there is no doubt." Tombelthen said firmly, raising his blade again. "We will not risk your further endangerment of us all. The responsibility of Saradush's destruction lies upon your shoulders, and the penalty for this crime is execution, to be carried out immediately."

The sound of metal unsheathing rang in the air as weapons were drawn and brought to bear on both sides, glowing magic at the fingertips of Aerie and Greywulf while the others had blades and bows drawn. "You know what we can do, General." Greywulf warned, hoping that if persuasion would not work, intimidation just might. "We've brought down armies in the past- if we're as evil as you claim, we'll have no problems bringing your little battalion down as well. Stand down, and we will leave you alone... fight us and I will not guarantee you see another dawn."

"This is not right!" Minsc growled, the Vorpal Sword clenched tightly in both hands. "These men are not evil; they do not deserve our boot-"

"They are no more innocent than the wild animals that we defend ourselves from in the plains and woods." Sarevok said with disgust. "If they refuse to flee than they will pay for their ignorance. Do not make the mistake of holding back- I will not forget it if you do, ranger."

"There is nothing you can say or do to dissuade me from doing my duty." Jamis stated, his features unmoving and set in stone. "You may kill me or my men, but we are legion. Eventually you will fall."

His words- so similar to what the Cowled Wizards had said to Irenicus when trying to bring him in amidst the ruin of Waukeen's Promenade back in Athkatla. It seemed like so long ago- and yet, those memories still came back as clear as day. And with them, the impotent rage he'd felt, seeing Imoen stolen away from him then... not this time. This time, if he chose to loose it, he had the power to stop the foolish General and his men. He could transform into the Slayer on a whim and rend them limb from limb, send a clear message to the Tethyrian nobles that he would not be trifled with-

"Greywulf?"

The small, gentle voice of Aerie broke through his rapidly rising fury, and Greywulf gasped for air as he glanced at Aerie- there was fear in her eyes. Fear of him- fear of what he was becoming, what he was doing. She had said it before... Sarevok's influence, his own reluctance to swear off the power of his blood... the fruits of his decisions up to now were finally bearing the fruit she had known would come. It was only then that he realized- the ground was trembling around him, and dark magic was coursing at his hands.

"You see!" Jamis shouted, transfixed by the sudden appearance of such powerful magic, but quickly returning to form. "You shall not taint this land any further- for your homes and families, men! Attack!"

No-! Greywulf felt the power of Bhaal within, screaming to be let out- it was all he could do to twist into something else, force it to take another shape- and before the army could bear down upon them, all six disappeared in yellow columns of light, transported back to the Pocket Plane.

Tombelthen lowered his arm, blinded momentarily by the intense flash, then stepped forward, looking for some sign of the vanished adventurers- nothing but sand blasted into glass from the heat of the magics that had transported them away. He turned, lip curling upward with frustration- "Someone bring me Lady Mellissan!" he shouted, gesturing to one of his soldiers as he sheathed his blade. "Let us pray she can tell us what in the Hells just happened here..."

After a few seconds of waiting, one of the soldiers returned with head low and helmet clutched between his hands. "Sir... I- ah, I'm afraid Lady Mellissan is, ah... I'm afraid she is gone as well. It looks as though a similar magic took her, just as it did the Bhaalspawn..."

Jamis inhaled sharply, his mind flitting back and forth with plans, counters, and strategies. This... ability that the Bhaalspawn had would be most troubling- able to transport himself and his companions from harm's way in a matter of seconds? It would be nearly impossible to trap the god children if they could do this- and if Mellissan had lied to him, if she was still helping them... or if she had been captured somehow? Jamis clenched a fist, then pointed to one of his messengers. "Bring word to our encampment near the northern borders of the desert. Deploy our scouts and spies everywhere- we must find the Bhaalspawn before they can hasten the destruction of Tethyr further."

X X X X X X

In the blackest void of the Abyss, amidst the planes of the ether and in between realities, a star-filled realm floated amidst nothing. All hard metal and rigid edges, like it was made of swords and spears. A giant city that floated alone, dark and disquieting. It had once been filled with the red rage of those murdered, filled with the souls of those who had given their lives for Bhaal, its gates held shut and guarded by the killers and wicked men of the world.

Now... it was quiet. Not a sound in the void as the dark citadel continued its rotation around a non-existent sun. Only one glimmer of sentient life existed in this plane of reality- past the crumbling gates with their ballistae of blood and through the main courtyards of withered and blackened trees, the castle stood tall and defiant, rebuilt as the seat of power for Bhaal's successor... or for the dead god himself. At the top of the tower was a portal, a vortex of energy feeding all the way down into the center of the citadel itself... down into the bowels of the realm where all the essence of the former master resided after being released from their mortal hosts.

At the top of the tower, floating amidst the portal of godly energy, Amelyssan the Blackhearted shook, twitching and flexing as her body reconciled its earthly nature to the god-essence she continued to absorb into herself. The rush- it made her heady, unable to think clearly... if she allowed herself to stay within for too long she would lose her mind to the influx of glorious power. With a great effort, she tore herself out of the portal, collapsing to the stone and steel floor beneath, her armor sizzling with the heat and energy. She looked up with a vicious, hungry smile, slowly picking herself up and striding to the Throne she had erected before the vortex so that she could stare into its depths, contemplate how she would use her newfound godhood when it was all over.

And use it she would... oh, that much was certain. For years, she had slaved as Bhaal's High Priestess. Years spent memorizing his resurrection rituals, years... all for his glory. All for his purposes. And now... so close to fruition. The time was near- there were so few of the god-children left on Faerun- the walls of the lower citadel lined with clay and stone figurines representing each and every Bhaalspawn left alive- their statues had crumbled with each death, and there were so very few whole and untouched. Balthazar. Greywulf. Imoen. Abazigal. Sendai. The ruin of Sarevok's statue had begun glowing for a time, but it was not rebuilt. He was no true god-child any longer... but the others... once their essences had joined the pool, she would feed off them, take full control of this plane and become the new Mistress of Murder.

She would be even more powerful now had it not been for her own foolishness and greed- another reason she refused to absorb too much power at one time. Every moment she was in the vortex, the citadel was closed off, channeling all of the godly essence upward and into her. When Gromnir had died... she had already returned to the citadel and begun channeling the essence of Bhaal, preparing to fight the mad General in case he had managed to kill Greywulf and the others. His essence had entered Greywulf and Imoen, instead of her... she laughed, disregarding the thought. It was meaningless- one spawn's essence, no matter how powerful, would not be enough to grant an advantage over her, and the access she had to so much of Bhaal's taint. She briefly considered stepping in again, becoming more and more powerful... no. There was still much to do- and the taint was good at finding itself. Absorb too much and Greywulf, Imoen, even Sarevok might be able to sense it within her.

Greywulf's decision to leave the battlefield rather than decimating the commander of the armies of Tethyr was... disappointing. She had hoped their skirmish would weaken any outside presence within this fraternal war, but as it stood, they were just another variable for her to factor in. The fact of the matter was that Balthazar would bring the other two members of the Five to the foreground while she led Greywulf to them. Whoever lived, whoever died... it mattered little. Balthazar would be strong enough to crush the victor... until she destroyed him. Oh, how foolish, how gullible the monk was. To think Bhaal's essence could be simply destroyed... the powers of a god did not simply vanish!

Amelyssan laughed, then rested her chin on her palm, tapping gently with her fingers. They were all pathetic- little more than worms, fighting over crumbs of power that they didn't know how to wield in the first place. She was the only worthy successor to the Throne of Blood... and by all the gods above and below, she would have it.

X X X X X X

"You were right."

"Jaheira, I-"

"Do not say you are sorry. I know what you feel about him, and more. Something must change, because we cannot continue like this." Jaheira said sharply as Aerie tried to find the words, but could say nothing as the druid set her spear to the ground beside her pack, Cespenar immediately dive-bombing towards the leather bag, his claw furiously opening as he wriggled inside. Perhaps another time Jaheira would have threatened the imp if he did not show care when rummaging through their belongings, but she was too tired, too worn, and just too damned frustrated to care right then.

"I thought... I had thought we were enough. That I was enough. That if I supported him, that if I showed him I would not abandon him, lose faith as I did when the Harpers accused him of evil..." she began but could scarce finish before her head dropped. There were no tears, no admissions of weakness, just a resignation Aerie had rarely seen in the druidess. "But he has changed, hasn't he... and I do not know when."

"I do." Aerie said, trying to take control and give the woman a focal point for the indominatable will hiding underneath her exterior. "Sarevok has corrupted him, fed him lies and tried to poison him- he can't be allowed to continue doing this!"

"And who do you think will stop me, girl? You? You are nothing before me... none of you are." Sarevok laughed, striding to the two women, both glaring at him with a heat in their eyes that would have reduced him to ash were it possible. "The only one who matters is Greywulf... he *will* take the Throne of Bhaal, I will make certain of it."

"And who are you to say so, little man?" Minsc rumbled behind Sarevok, immediately moving to defend his witch's honor. The ranger's face was dark, grim. He had listened to Aerie's pleas for help, heard her accusations about Sarevok... the Deathbringer was not one of Minsc's favorite people. "Our friend will never give up the good fight! You are an eeevil man who needs to be reminded of who he fights beside!"

"Who am I? Who are any of you?" Sarevok swore at the ranger, looking up at the taller man with disgust in his face. "None of you know the draw, the siren's call of power that the taint brings! You all strive to hold Greywulf back from his true potential, to make him less than he is! If not for you he would be a god by now!"

"And what I am, chopped meat? Don't answer that." Imoen cut in, joining the group as she pointed to the room where Greywulf had, in uncomfortably typical fashion as of late, sequestered himself upon returning to the Pocket Plane. "I'd do anything for him, anything to keep him from turning into you, 'brother'. You think you've got him all figured out, do you? You think that everyone is just like you, out for himself and screw the rest of the world, I'm gonna get what I want no matter what the cost. You're wrong though- you've always been wrong."

"Ignorant musings of a naive little girl." Sarevok waved her off, turning his back to her in favor of facing Minsc and Jaheira, a much more direct threat in his mind. "You will learn the true way of things soon enough- you have done much of that already, if that bit of your soul that resonates within me is to be believed..."

Imoen fumed at his total lack of respect for her- "You think so? Here's something for ya to chew on then. If your way is so great, why is Tamoko dead, big man?"

Sarevok spun on his heel and shoved a finger into her chest, fury abruptly blazing in his golden eyes. "Do *not* speak of her in such a way if you wish to live. I have tolerated much from you but I will not allow such insolence!"

"You've tolerated much?" Imoen shouted back, pushing Sarevok's hand away and shoving him back a step with all her strength, such as it was. "And you think we like having you along with us? After everything you've done? You've been nothing but a plague on us since the day we heard your name! You killed Gorion, you may as well have killed Tamoko and Yoshimo too! I won't let you kill Greywulf too, you bastard!"

"I said-" Sarevok growled, rearing back- "Never speak of her!"

An armored gauntlet smashed into the side of Imoen's face, sending her stumbling and tumbling across the stone floor of the Pocket Plane, unconscious from the sheer force of the blow. Steel rang as Sarevok turned to the others, the Sword of Chaos meeting Minsc's Vorpal sword as it bore down upon his head, deflecting the blow. "I knew from the moment you were brought back to life that this battle would be fought." Jaheira said darkly, retrieving her spear with a darting leap before coming back up on her haunches and throwing herself at the Deathbringer. "Nature, take the life she gave!"

Sarevok pulled away from Minsc, letting his blade drop in time to use it to shove Jaheira's spear to the side as he abruptly reversed direction and slammed his shoulder into her incoming charge, putting her off balance. His sword would have come around to bisect her in the next moment had Aerie not intervened- a sudden blast of light blinded the big man and made him stagger backward for a moment, trying to power through the simple magics. His vision came back just in time to see Minsc and Jaheira approaching from either side- he swung his mammoth sword in a huge arc to keep them at bay, then bull-rushed at Aerie, too fast for Minsc to intercept his charge in time. The Avariel grimaced at the sudden attack- she raised her hands and shouted an incantation, just in the nick of time.

A blue globe surrounded her, sparking with the impact as Sarevok's momentum lifted her up off the ground, into one of the cliffs surrounding the platform of the Pocket Plane. She remained suspended floating in mid-air as Sarevok hacked at the globe, trying to cut through its protections before the others could come to her rescue- Aerie extended a hand as magic began swirling at her hand- a Disintegrate was forming quickly, and Sarevok knew it. It didn't matter if Minsc and Jaheira reached him now, if he couldn't stop her spell in time it was all over.

Aerie's face was a mixture of rage and fatigue- she was just so tired of this evil man. Tired of his taunts. Tired of his attempts to corrupt the man she idolized. Tired of his presence in their party. And if it would be up to her to end his miserable life, she wasn't going to back down- "A broken bird, am I-?" Aerie began to hiss as the spell flashed in her hands, about to reduce him to atoms-

"Enough!"

The commanding bellow echoed through the empty void like it was a cavern, and the momentary lack of concentration caused the Disintegrate to fizzle in Aerie's hands. She inhaled sharply, trying to quell the anger that had built in her petite frame during the short but vicious battle- Sarevok, for his part, had backed off a bit, but whether that was due to Minsc and Jaheira's weapons at his back or due to Greywulf's command, it was not apparent. Greywulf was walking with Imoen from across the opposite side of the Plane, his arm draped around her shoulder as she glared viciously at Sarevok, blood trickling from her nose and her normally rose colored cheek forming a bruise.

"Greywulf, I have allowed this monstrosity at our side, but he has gone too far!" Jaheira protested, keeping her spear at his chest with no sign of lowering it anytime soon. "I refuse to allow his presence to blight us any longer-"

"He stays, Jaheira... and he stays alive as well." he remarked calmly, coolly. Sarevok's face bore the slightest hint of a smile- so the half-elf was finally realizing who was going to be his most valuable ally... he had finally seen the truth after all. It must've hurt his companions so much to hear him fall short of their expectations after hurling them so desperately at him- "He stays alive for two reasons. One, he's a strong fighter and he's the best source of Bhaal lore we've got. Two..."

Greywulf let Imoen go and walked to Sarevok and hauled off, punching him across the face. "Two, because I want you to see just how much you've failed. You wanted to corrupt me. Wanted me to be just like you... and you know what? It almost worked. It would've worked if it weren't for them. I want you to see me do everything you couldn't with the power of Bhaal. That's why you're still here."

Sarevok's eyes widened as he rubbed his cheek- no. "You- you..."

"I don't want to hear it from you, brother. All those speeches, all those rants about how much power I could gain... I'm done with it. Or to put it simply, shut up."

Greywulf turned to meet a smirking Jaheira and a grinning Minsc, putting one hand on either of their shoulders, the two of them doing the same back. "It would seem you've cleared your head, whelp." Jaheira remarked smugly. "We still have much to talk about..."

"But for now, we are happy to know that you are firmly on the side of JUSTICE!" Minsc bellowed with a laugh, Boo appearing from nowhere to scamper onto Greywulf's shoulder as well. "You see? Boo agrees."

He nodded with a smile to both of them and moved to embrace Aerie, the Avariel smiling widely as she wrapped her arms around him tightly- "I'm glad you're back."

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he chuckled. "Aerie... thanks. You're not the same girl we met back in the circus, that's for sure. I saw the hurting you were about to put on Sarevok... I've never gotten a shield spell to last that long against him. Pretty impressive work."

Gods... a simple compliment from him and it was enough to make her blush all over again. Aerie did her best to keep that from showing and instead chuckled with a quick point at Sarevok's retreating figure, his back to them as he stormed off. "Looks like Sarevok's gone off to sulk where you were hiding the past few minutes."

"Let him sulk." Greywulf said, turning to face the others, Imoen joining the circle as the five stood together, united in both body and spirit once again for the first time in too long. "I've made some mistakes the past few days... I started thinking that I could control the taint, that I could use its power without being affected... I was wrong."

"Words mean very little if your actions do not back them up..." Jaheira offered, her tone serious again, deeply concerned with the behavior of the one she cared about so much. "I want to believe that you are sincere, that you will stay true to what you have said, but this is not the first time you have been faced with this kind of truth."

"And it is not the first time you have nearly fallen to the taint within." Aerie followed up, concern flitting over her elven features. "I think we all- well, with the exception of one- want to believe you'll find a way to keep the darkness at bay, but-"

"But it's getting harder to take my word for it." Greywulf nodded, reluctantly agreeing with a nod. "You're right. We need to find the last members of the Five, we need to get rid of the army chasing us, and Imoen and I need to keep as distanced from the taint as possible. Not an easy act to balance... but I think I have an idea that just might work..."

"I hate it when you say that." Jaheira groaned lightly, pursing her lips. "Whenever you say that it leads into a plan so convoluted that Lolth herself would be pressed to unravel it."

"Only a little." the sorcerer smirked. "Cespenar! Got a question for you..."

"Oh yes! Cespenar is good servant- what do you wants to know?" the imp fluttered to Greywulf's side, bobbing up and down as his wings kept him afloat.

"Sarevok said I could use the power of this place to bring people here- is that right? If so... show me how."

X X X X X X

The thud of his fist impacting against the rock wall was unsatisfying quiet, the only real result being a pain in his hand. Not that he didn't know it would hurt, but the image of the wall being Greywulf's face, or that damned druid, or any of them... Sarevok nearly roared, but refused to give the others the satisfaction of hearing it. How could he have misjudged so much? How could he have ever believed his spineless brother was strong enough to take the power of Bhaal for his own? Pathetic, all of them. He spun and glared at the stairway leading back to the main platform where the five of them remained. Oh, how much he wanted to lay waste to it all, simply draw his blade and do whatever it took to end every life up there. It was nothing more than they deserved for their cowardice, for holding him back like this...

No... he forced his grip on the Blade of Chaos to relax, flexing his hand as his eyes slowly lost some of their golden fire. As much as he wanted to gut them and leave their corpses for the crows... or whatever demonic beings passed for crows in this Pocket Plane, it simply wasn't possible. Not against all five of them. He'd accepted the fact that while he would be a match for one, two, possibly three of them at once, facing all of them would mean his death, without question. They were too well organized, too accustomed to fighting as a unit, one of the few things he admired about their capabilities.

But it was all for naught- what was he to do? Greywulf had rejected the taint once again- and he had a feeling that the half-elf would be on guard against Sarevok's attempts to corrupt him from now on. Imoen was as inane as ever, her presence little more than distraction. How, how could he find the power he so richly deserved? There was, of course, the plan he'd formed upon seeing Gromnir's death... he had yet to test it, and it was still nothing more than an educated guess, at best... but right now, it was rapidly appearing to be his only avenue. His only way out of this insane jail he'd crafted for himself.

Damn them. Damn them for their weakness, for their cowardice. Damn them for wasting their potential, choosing to coddle the weak and neglect their heritage. Damn them for refusing to see the truth so glaringly obvious that every other Bhaalspawn, no matter how weak or un-inspiring, sought the power that ran through their veins. But most of all... above all else... damn them for not having died yet. Damn them for not failing, for actually succeeding in their efforts. If it was all for naught, if they had been unsuccessful time and again and only just barely survived so far, he could deal with that. He could point smugly to their track record and dismiss their feeble attempts at justification for chaff in the wind... but somehow, some way, they'd managed to only survive, but thrive in the process. They'd become big damn heroes... and the thought infuriated him. It angered him... and frightened him.

He inhaled sharply and tried to calm himself, knowing that he would have to face them again and soon... he was not about to be left behind in this place while his brother continued his quest. No... he had to see this through. If only to try and claim the power of Bhaal one final time in a desperate gambit... or if only to understand, just how any of their actions could have succeeded where he failed... he had to see it through.

Sarevok steeled his will and trudged up the staircase leading to the main platform of the Pocket Plane, when the whole cavernous structure shook, a roar of thunder echoing all around him. He steadied his balance for a quick moment, narrowing his eyes as thoughts and calculations ran through his mind. He veritably leapt up the rest of the staircase, hands at the hilt of his sword in case their enemies had found this pocket of reality... and stopped short as he saw the crowd gathered near the gaping maw that served as the exit of their make-shift home.

Greywulf glanced over at the sudden of movement of Sarevok's arrival- he winced and tried raising his voice to be heard over the racket of protests and cries of uncertainty being emitted from all around him and his four loyal stalwarts. "Look, I know this was kind of a shock for all of you- and no, this isn't hell. Well, not really. But if you'll just listen for a moment... I can explain everything. Including why Sarevok is alive and well and standing right over there."

The sudden clamor stopped as all the newcomers turned to look at the mighty warrior, his arms folded as he glowered at them. Some looked at him with suspicion and mistrust, others with cold curiosity. Regardless, mane-dropping the infamous Deathbringer... as well as using him as a distraction, had given Greywulf the opening he needed, and if nothing else the chance to explain his plan... whatever madness it happened to be.

"Anomen. Solaufein. Nalia. Cernd. Viconia... all of you have traveled at my side for a time, and all of you have proven yourself as loyal comrades in battle, if not friends. You have no doubt heard the rumors about me and Imoen... about what we have done and what our actions will lead to, should the Bhaalspawn wars continue. I'm here to tell you that I have no intention of bringing doom upon Faerun... and that to stop it from happening, I need your help."

"No intentions of doom, my raven? How disappointing."

Another voice issued from the portal through which the summonings had occurred- Greywulf spun to see a sixth figure emerge, his gait and face unmistakable, but Greywulf shook his head in disbelief as the tiefling appeared fully. "If I'm not mistaken, Haer'Dalis... you're supposed to be dead."

The tiefling bard laughed, stretching out a hand to shake Greywulf's. "And what is life but a dance with death? Surely you do not claim to be the only who has survived an encounter with the mistress of the night? Do not let my reemergence upon the stage dishearten you, good raven. Speak your peace and we shall fly as our minds do take us."

The sudden appearance had, unfortunately, lost the attention Greywulf had garnered and the uproar amongst the new arrivals was as loud as ever, spread amongst Greywulf and his companions, Sarevok, and Haer'Dalis... Jaheira leaned over to Greywulf and whispered with equal parts humor and disbelief, "By Silvanus, man... what have you gotten us into now...?"


	28. Part 2: A Path to War

__**Part 2: Throne of Bhaal  
**

_Author's Note: He updates? What? Well, hey there everyone. It's that time again, though I do feel I need to apologize for the long delays. I'm sure a lot of y'all wondered if this thing was dead, but I'd say... more on hiatus for a bit. Is a year long hiatus long enough? I think so. The motivation is back, and the plan is for bi-weekly updates, give or take. So yeah- let's roll out with a jumbo size chapter!_

Far above the plains and deserts and oceans of Toril, past the clouds and the snow-capped peaks of the highest mountain ranges, seated above even the planets and empty spaces in the heavens, they watched. They observed. They gazed down on those mortals whose actions were so very… insignificant, compared to their own, and yet the consequences and ramifications of what they may or may not choose to do could shake the very foundations of their own worlds and realms.

Cloaked features gazed upon the small globe that floated in the midst of their presence in the stars, and with the flick of an ethereal hand, the globe stretched and warped, slowly turning a bright orange hue before changing shape, the edges and bottom growing hard and rocky. Long jagged points began forming upward as the globe flattened into a semi sphere, flat on the top with rock and molten lava on the bottom. It floated closer and closer, growing large until the observers could see the tiny specks upon this miniature plane of Murder, could make out those forms who had been summoned at the whim of the Bhaal-tainted one who ruled this small, gruesome realm.

"So… the god-child has summoned more allies to his side. I had not expected this from him." A shrouded woman spoke, her voice echoing from the sparkling robes that covered her, spreading into the void that surrounded the radiant figures.

"Truly? My only surprise comes from the fact that he did not do this sooner." Another voice sounded, emanating from an armored form in glowing white plate mail, eyes burning bright with holy fire. A smaller, similarly armored form stood at his side, a sword always at the ready. "He serves a just cause, and those he has aided in the past will no doubt see the righteousness with which he strives-"

A mocking laugh caught the attention of the god-knight, a sneer in the dark as an ebony form, only just visible in the darkness, even to those with divine vision. "You assume too much, oh god of Justice. My devotee follows him for much more… self-centered reasons. I do not expect her counsel will push him onto the narrow path you espouse so fiercely."

The goddess of Darkness flashed an unkind smile at the armored divine- his shield-bearer took a step forward as if to defend his master's honor, but Lord Torm raised a gauntleted hand, holding his servant back. "Pay no mind to Shar's taunts and goads. Her words are as empty as her soul. Aside from all this, there will be no battle between gods here. The Vigilant One will make certain of that, I am sure."

At the sound of his title, all the gods present glanced to the ever watching eye, the guardian god holding his blade at guard without moving, without flinching as he gazed upon their meeting, only by his own judgment allowing them this vision, this access into the events unfolding in the Bhaal-plane below.

"Ugh... you really could do with making this place a bit more... lively, couldn't you?" a dry, half-insulting tone issued from the ether around as another dark deity formed from the mist, a pale figure in black and red robes. Cyric's wicked smile widened as Helm remained silent and unmoving at his taunts. "Come now, surely you needn't keep this tidbit of your realm so... dead?"

"I prefer it to the realm of these fools." Shar tossed out, running a long nailed finger down her cheek before gesturing towards Mystra and Torm. "But there is little point in remaining here for me, I think. My cleric will keep me appraised of this Bhaalspawn's activities... whether she knows it or not. Ha. Hahaha..."

Shar vanished as quickly as she had arrived, leaving the Lord of Lies in her place. He grinned and sauntered up, leaning over at the representation of the Bhaal-plane that floated before them. His hand reached out to touch the small sphere- Helm's blade stretched out, resting on Cyric's fingers.

"There will be no interference from the gods in the destiny of the Bhaalspawn." Helm intoned, his mighty voice echoing through the void. "Father Ao has forbidden it."

"Of course he has, and that's why you're here now, to make sure we don't drop a plague of boils or flies on these little godlings, I'm well aware of what Lord Ao has said." Cyric scowled, withdrawing his hand. "If you'll recall, I was the one who showed you how Dianya of Letherel was interfering in this particular god-spawn's path, and you gave me permission to make her cease."

"A duty you performed with troubling enthusiasm." Mystra remarked, frowning as she folded her arms beneath her robes.

"I simply kept her from pushing too far. Tit for tat and all. I'm sure any of you would be thrilled to put me in my place were I to go jumping head first into this little mortal's life. But speaking of, I didn't come all this way to engage in discourse with the likes of you, as unutterably entertaining as that prospect sounds." Cyric smirked, turning from the globe and standing before Helm. "Oh Lord of Vigilance, I have a request to put to you. Ao has placed you in charge of watching these mortals... but I feel that you have a been lax in your guardianship. By your own admission, there have been influences upon this little drama, and I feel as though my side of things had been... under-represented."

Helm stiffened, but did not move as Cyric continued, counting off the points on his long bony fingers. "Adalon the shield-dragon, Dianya the dryad-queen... too many forces of light have aided him along his way. The scales are not balanced, after all! I think it only fair that I be allowed to test this Bhaalspawn's mettle in my own way."

"Your words are cunning, but you have a forked tongue." Torm challenged him, shaking his head. "Any interference in the destiny of these mortals-"

"Was, as I pointed out to Dianya, still interference." Cyric snorted, shaking his head in disdain. "And people say that I twist words. You must agree, the forces of so-called darkness are owed some measure of compensation in this whelp's future, are we not?"

Cyric did not wait for a reply- he turned and strode back to the globe representing the Bhaal-plane- he took it between two fingers, then flicked it upwards where it suspended in mid-air, before zooming in upon the lower levels of the rocky behemoth. Five stairways descended from the main structure, and small bubbles of formless dark essence whirled where the challenge rooms, the arenas of Greywulf's mind would actually form. Two were already solidified- one filled with order and solid rock, the other with demonic eyes and figures that would chill the blood of any mortal. "Hmm… one of these would do nicely, I think. What say you, guardian god? Shall my request be granted? Surely I will not have to beseech Ao to allow me this right…"

Helm remained silent, the imposing, stoic figure remaining steady. That he had not stopped Cyric from touching the representation of the plane was enough evidence already- he was simply making up his own mind, solidifying what he, in his wisdom, knew was true. Without a word, Helm nodded, lowering his blade and nodding to Cyric. Mystra narrowed her eyes as the Lord of Lies grinned triumphantly, bowing to Helm enthusiastically before turning on his heel.

"Glad that's settled then- I should take some time to prepare, methinks. How to test this little godling… and stop glowering, Mystra. It doesn't suit you at all." Cyric's tone lowered from gleeful cheer to a dark, sinister growl. "Be seeing you… I hope you enjoy the show."

As Cyric vanished from sight, Torm turned to Mystra, the blazing fire in his eyes glowing even brighter. "Prepare your Chosen. If this interference grows to be too much-"

"It shall not. And you shall not interfere any further than has already been done." Helm cut Torm off, the two deities fixing one another with glares that would move mountains, but for these two gods, their wills were unshakeable. "I will monitor as I have been commanded. Cyric shall not overstep his bounds."

"I trust you, my friend, but that remains to be seen." Torm replied, gesturing to his shield-bearer as he strode back to Mystra, the goddess of magic and the god of justice leaving Helm's plane together.

As they strode through time and space, returning to their place in the heavens, Torm whispered to his fellow god, "It may yet prove to be another who takes the Throne for his own… but there is something about this mortal, this 'Greywulf'."

"I sense it as well…" Mystra nodded, eyes closing as she stretched out her senses, letting the power that indwelt her wrap around the sorcerer, testing his strength, feeling how deep his connection to her world went. "His mastery of magic is strong, and will only continue to grow. Those he travels with who also follow my guidance are equally powerful, if perhaps not as driven. It may be another... but I do not think so. He will be the one."

"Regardless, we will keep watch over the others- I have spoken with Tyr and Lathander. They maintain guard upon those other Bhaalspawn that yet live, though they tell me that Talos, Malar and even Ghaunadaur are also involved. I suppose it would not simply be Shar and Cyric who took an interest..." Torm sighed, before pausing, drawing a portal with his armored hands, a shimmering halo of light leading back to his own realm.

"Stay vigilant, Lord of Justice." Mystra nodded to him, drawing her robes tighter as magic swelled in the void and turned her form ethereal, fading away. "The powers of Bhaal will return to the pantheon soon. In what form though..."

As they parted ways, Torm glanced down at his shield bearer, the small yet radiant form of a man who stood at Torm's right hand at all times when venturing from his realm, guarding his glory and any who would dare blaspheme against his power. He cocked his head slightly, then spoke quietly. "Before you return to your reward, answer me this, my good and faithful servant. You know these men and women far better than any of the gods, save the dead Lord of Murder himself. Do you think that these wards of Gorion will win out against their kin? And if so, will they bring the power of Bhaal to heel, or let it consume them as it would all the rest?"

The smaller form paused, as if considering the query by his master. He reached up and removed the Helm of Glory he was wearing, revealing the shining features of the man that had been Keldorn Firecam on earth, now the Right Hand of Torm. He smiled, closing his eyes for a brief moment, then nodded. "They will succeed, my Lord. In spite of all the trials that come their way, these men and women will never give up. Not in the face of all the demons and hellspawn the mortal coil has to offer them."

X X X X X X

At last- for a brief moment, everything was still. The clamor and confusion that had gripped every single one of the men and women before him was quelled for the moment, though that did leave something of an uncomfortable silence. A silence that he would need to break- a silence he would need to fill with an argument convincing enough to ask these people he considered friends, to follow him into hell once more. One last time. Greywulf inhaled sharply, then spoke.

"Every one of you has fought at my side in the past. Every one of you has proven yourself to be a worthy companion at the very least, and I would hope, a friend. And I know that I've pulled you away from people, places, loved ones, all in the blink of an eye, and I have to beg your forgiveness for that. But if ever any of you felt any loyalty to me or Imoen... then we have need of you. This is the hour."

Nobody spoke, nobody tossed a rejoinder or a counter to his words. He might convince them yet. Imoen glanced at her brother, his eyes knit, trying to find the words. It wasn't like him, being unsure of how to speak. He had been good at leading his whole life, and he'd certainly had plenty of practice before, but this... this was something different. He was right- for all they knew, the people they'd summoned could've been at home with families, protecting loved ones from bandits, maybe just enjoying a well earned rest from their labors... but without any warning they'd been ripped from their lives and thrust into what was, for all intents and purposes, a plane of Hell. And they were being asked to fight for the ones who'd torn them away. Imoen bit her lip quietly and prayed Greywulf had the words to convince them.

"This isn't about just us, though. This is about all of Faerun. All of the lands and homes that I've ripped you from. The Bhaalspawn, my kin... they have fulfilled the prophecies of Alaundo. The rivers run red with the blood of innocents. But enough is enough. In all the lands, three remain. Three more of my kin, and we cannot fight them alone." Greywulf paused, looking back at those who had followed him for so long.

He had considered, for a time, that he had no right to put them in danger, to bring them with him on these suicide missions, throwing themselves against army after army, somehow coming out on top each time. How long could the odds favor them? When would their time be up? He didn't know, and he didn't want to know... but maybe, with these others at his side, he might be able to delay that moment a while yet.

"If any of you wish to leave, I will do my utmost to send you back to your families, to your homes, to your lives. I will not hold it against you. There is little hope for treasure or coin in the battles we're about to fight. All I can promise is a fierce enemy, and an honorable goal. For some of you, perhaps that is more than enough. For others, those words ring hollow, I know. But this is all we have to offer right now."

Minsc squeezed his fists tightly, nodding with approval at the words of his friend. Fighting for the good of all- it had always been enough for him. And his witch, of course. Others needed more incentives to cast their magics, or demanded more to wield their blades, but it had never been that complicated for the ranger. And right now, he wished all of those before him could see with the clarity he possessed. To fight, to die in the cause of something such as this... it would be a good death, if that was to be their fate. And if not... well then. The bards of Rashemen would sing such a tale the likes of which the Ice Dragon Lodge had never heard.

"I have little more to say, but I thank you for allowing me this much. If there are those who wish to leave, then speak now and I shall send you home..." Greywulf spoke, gesturing at the gateway, the portal maw that had all summoned them.

Nobody spoke for a time, each one glancing to the others as though gauging whether or not there would be those who turned down this request. Jaheira watched each one, her eyes flitting back and forth between faces, the gears of her mind turning as she calculated who would be the most likely to go, who would stay and help. It was true... they needed every bit of aid they could muster to fight this war. Three more Bhaalspawn with armies of their own, and the forces of Tethyr committed to their deaths as well- they had scarcely been so hunted in the past, even when facing down the might of the Shadow Thieves outside Beregost. They needed the help, but for all of Greywulf's persuasiveness… it was no small thing they needed. She wasn't even sure what adding these men and women would accomplish… she'd simply have to trust him. Luckily for her, she'd had some practice with that particular task.

Silence permeated the air- the only sound being that of breathing and the occasional unearthly screech from those unholy forces flying in the distance of this green-tinted sky. It would, of course, be the bard who broke the silence first, letting his speech lift the others, if not speak for them entirely. Haer'Dalis laughed aloud, then proceeded to clap slowly and deliberately, bowing once before Greywulf before extending a hand to the sorcerer. "Quite the speech, my raven. But your words, while worthy of a performance in the troupe of Raelis Shai herself, are unneeded. I will follow you wherever you lead, and if that stretches into the gates of Oblivion- well then, let us depart. It would be a most interesting journey, would it not? Life is a story simply waiting to be told, after all. I would not miss this one for the world."

Haer'Dalis glanced to the side, noting Aerie's troubled visage- he should have guessed that the elf would have been unsettled by his presence. After all, the last time they'd seen one another, he had kissed her, then trapped her in a Hold spell, then left the party to seek vengeance on the traitor Yoshimo before dying in battle. All in all, her feelings about seeing him again were probably… conflicted. "Ah, my mourning dove… I have missed your company."

That was it? That was all he had to say to her after… well, after everything that had happened? Aerie glared as hard as she could, putting every ounce of disdain into that stare. It did little to impact the tiefling's sly grin, but it felt good anyway. What Greywulf's plan was, bringing all of these old companions back… well, guessing what he had planned was pointless, usually because his plans were often borderline insane to begin with. But it certainly couldn't have anticipated the return of the presumed dead Haer'Dalis. This would be… interesting. And if the silver-tongued bard tried to flatter her with his charms again… well, she wasn't the starry-eyed rookie she'd been back then. The bard winked at her, and she felt her cheeks redden, despite all her attempts to remain justifiably peeved. Well, she didn't claim that a little flattery wasn't welcome, but the point remained.

"To leave after such a challenge would be a most ignoble thing- I would not hear of it, not while you have need of worthy companions to your cause." Anomen stated, stepping forward with clenched gauntlet to his chest and a bow. "There are things that I- perhaps I should say we- must attend to before I may be fully committed to your work, my friend... but if you can lend aid to me I shall repay it twice over."

Solaufein and Nalia exchanged a quick glance, then nodded in agreement, moving to position themselves aside Anomen. The drow elf's mind began to race, rapidly trying to place this new development- he had given up hope of re-uniting with the Bhaalspawn after a time, but it appeared fate had other plans in store for him. The attack on the grove of Letherel seemed like it had happened so long ago, now... and it sounded as though Greywulf and Imoen had their share of troubles as things stood. But if his blade could help turn drive his kin back to the Underdark and away from them... he allowed himself a faint smile. Just like old times then.

Cernd took the moment to step forward as well, his painted face resolute, strong, as willful and proud as ever. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath- his body shuddered a moment before he returned to them in spirit. "I sense the cries of Nature, even in this place, so far removed from our mother. I have felt the devastation that plagues this land for many months now- the druids of Trademeet have banded together to defend themselves, as more and more turn to Shadow magic to combat this assault on Nature. I had thought to remain with them, seeing no other way to maintain the balance... yet if you succeed, if you can end the bloodshed across Faerun... then perhaps I may have a role to play after all. I shall join the hunt alongside this pack, and may the spirits guide us through the veil and beyond."

Viconia remained the only one who had yet to speak- all eyes rested upon her for a moment, and, somewhat unlike her, she shied away from the attention. If anyone had taken care to notice, they would have seen the bits of straw and hay clinging to her robes, and the rope burns around her wrists. She curled her lip and snorted, quickly deflecting any direct inquiries towards her. "Really now? Another damnable crusade you seek aid for? Battling the vampires underneath Athkatla was not enough for your foolish idealism, it seems. I shall never understand you, jaluk."

"If you wish to be sent home, the portal is waiting..." Jaheira snorted, gesturing toward the open maw Greywulf was holding open, the gold-white mass of space-time swirling within.

Viconia paused, then folded her arms, seeming to withdraw even further into the black hood and cloak that covered the splint mail she wore beneath. "I shall stay, for a time. I thank Shar you did not summon that atrocious gnome Jansen to your side as well..."

Greywulf smiled, nodding to her, closing his fist as the portal he had been maintaining collapsed. The Pocket Plane was sealed once more... and it was time to plan. Sarevok nearly shook his head in disbelief- so the fool had done it again. Yanked five- no, six, warriors and wizards from their places and into a plane of Hell... and with a few words, a speech perhaps, their swords were Greywulf's to command. Sarevok had been a leader of men as well, back at the Iron Throne. Thousands had followed his command, but they were pathetic, fodder to be used and discarded in the end. Weaklings who meant nothing, barely qualifying as sentient beings themselves. Not like these- they were powerful, strong-willed. He'd ruled with an iron fist, but his brother commanded with a silver tongue. More questions, always more questions. The longer he stayed with Greywulf, the more he questioned just how the sorcerer had managed to make it all work. How he'd come this far, gained the loyalty of so many... and still he maintained this high road, this self-righteousness that held him back. It did hold him back, didn't it?

"Well that's it then..." the half-elf smiled, allowing himself to relax for a brief moment. The hard part was over with, or at least, what had seemed like the hard part. Finding the other three Bhaalspawn out there, dealing with the army of Tethyr on their tails... no trouble at all. Or at least, not with a few more resources on their side. He concentrated for a brief moment, summoning a large table with enough chairs to seat all of them from the rocky ground they stood upon. "Have a seat, everyone. I've got a lot to explain and a few ideas on how to make all of this play out. As I'm sure most of you know, my ideas don't usually end as well as I'd like, so I'm counting on all of you to figure out what I'm missing, how to make it better, and with any luck, we can all come out of this alive."

X X X X X X

"From your description of the assassins at Saradush, it would seem that the ones I faced in Letherel follow the same woman, this Sendai..."

"And do not forget the rumors of we have heard of dragons gathering in the south east, in the canyons east of Amkethran. It could simply be coincidence, but..."

"It has been some time, hasn't it? I have grown in power since we last crossed paths. Perhaps we should test ourselves at some point, yes? There was little time back at my Keep, but perhaps we might have the opportunity to match spells-"

"The Watcher's Keep is northwest of the ruins of Saradush, a few days journey on foot. With the power of your Pocket Plane, it should be a easy trek-"

"Reynald is undoubtedly wondering what became of us- we had just arrived. Hopefully he will wait and we can reunite once we are there-"

"-didn't think we'd get a chance to meet up again for a while. It's good to see you."

"Always a pleasure- it appears Nature has treated you well since our last meeting. You are looking much less… dead, this time, methinks."

"I doubt the General will simply wait by the oasis to trap us again. Still, unless we can find Melissan we will need a new route to locating the other members of the Five."

"Make another remark about my 'ebony skin and ivory hair', bard, and I will cut out your tongue-"

The commotion of the party was a divide between old reunions and planning their next moves. Anomen had spoken to Greywulf of their quest in Watcher's Keep... the sorcerer had listened, his mind calculating with the new condition thrown into the mix. This was not something he had anticipated originally... but perhaps it might still work. Greywulf had half-retreated from the conversation, promising to consider Anomen's request, but it had to be weighed against their existing priorities. He eyed each person in turn, considering at their strengths, their weaknesses, their abilities. A party of six was one thing- that he could lead. Thirteen, once Reynald was back among them? This could be... difficult.

Greywulf excused himself from the group for a moment while the remainder continued to talk, striding back to the portal maw, attempting to exert his will over this place again- a portal flickered in and out of existence, and he began to focus on Reynald, trying to find the ex-paladin's presence, his form-

"Careful, brother. You wouldn't want to leave one of these stranded in time and space, would you? Give yourself time to rest- bringing six here all at once was... ill-advised, I think."

Sarevok's gruff tones took the sorcerer by surprise- he relaxed for a moment, then nodded and let the portal collapse on itself. "Point taken. Though you might've warned me about that beforehand..."

The Deathbringer cocked his head to one side for a moment, snorting with a hint of ridicule. "You did not ask, as I recall. In fact, our last words spoken to one another were of quite mutual hatred, I think. I am glad that this forced partnership has not quelled our mutual emnity. Such a rivalry is not something to be thrown aside so easily. It should be... savored."

"You're one sick son of a bitch, you know that?" Greywulf replied easily, taking a moment to see whether a bruise was forming where he had punched Sarevok earlier. "Hmm. I was hoping that shot I took at you would show more."

"Please." Sarevok laughed unkindly. "Imoen struck me harder than you. I'm surprised you didn't break your hand."

The sorcerer shrugged, taking the blow to his pride without any rejoinder because quite frankly... punching Sarevok had hurt like hell. For a moment he'd thought there might have been a broken knuckle or two. "I have to admit, I'm surprised you're so... talkative, or calm, after what happened a few hours ago. Didn't think we'd be on speaking terms for another day at least."

"I am not quite so petty as you imagine." Sarevok noted, leaning against the rocky walls that encircled the Plane, watching the others at the round table Greywulf had summoned. "To reach the heights of the Iron Throne, I learned how to play politics and I learned it well. There are times when taking offense is simply... inconvenient, for all involved."

"Is that right?" Greywulf asked, arching one eyebrow with dubiousness. "And... my refusal to conform to your idea of what a power hungry despot should be isn't throwing a wrench in those plans of yours to gain power, is that what I'm hearing? Not sure whether or not I should be worried..."

"Hnh." Sarevok grunted- or was it a small laugh? He glared at Greywulf, a smile creeping onto the corners of his mouth. "Believe me, you will know when you should be worried. It will be right about the time when my blade enters your innards."

"Right. Lovely." the half-elf snorted. "As fulfilling as this conversation has been, was there something you needed? Still trying to plan here..."

"I'm not surprised. You have always limited your scope of companions in the past... something I have wondered about, in fact. Five, I think, if I remember correctly from my spies leading up to our clash beneath Baldur's Gate. Here again, you keep five close at hand, though from the willingness of these to join your cause, you could have held a small army at your disposal for some time now."

"Yeah, well you can see how well I'm doing trying to organize this many people." Greywulf frowned, muttering to himself as he let his mind wander back to his calculations despite Sarevok's presence beside him. "Three groups, one for a distraction, one to take care of Anomen's problem, one to handle one of the members of the Five-"

"You actually plan on appeasing that foolish squire? Surely you jest. We have no time for such a useless detour. Watcher's Keep... it is an abandoned tower that the gods have done far too much meddling in. In my studies I heard tales of powerful magical items located within... guarded by the fiercest of creatures. When we stand at the precipice of destiny, risking our lives against such danger is a risk we cannot afford to take." Sarevok curled his lip in disgust. "If he cannot help us without demanding something in return, then send him on his way. We have no need for excess baggage at this stage of our war."

"Yeah. Well, that's one way to go, but since between the two of us, I'm the one who hasn't had to be resurrected, I think I'll take my own counsel on how I handle my companions." Greywulf replied easily, then returned to counting.

Sarevok rolled his eyes, then studied Greywulf a moment longer before speaking again. "You did not answer my question, I note."

"Didn't realize you wanted one." The sorcerer thought for a moment, then nodded as he figured out what Sarevok had been asking. "Why I limit my companions? Hmm. I mean, it's not like I haven't called upon others for larger operations. Attacking Bodhi's lair, what we're doing right now..."

He paused, then frowned. "They're my responsibility. They'd deny it, and to a point, it's true- they're all capable of handling themselves, and probably the group itself better than me. But they're family too... and with this life, death is never far behind. If they're willing to risk themselves for me, I won't stop them... but I'll never ask them to do it, either."

There was silence between the two for a moment longer, before Sarevok shook his head, pushing away from the wall where he'd been leaning. "I will never understand your thoughts, brother. Still, it is as you say. You have survived this long, I have... not. Proceed with whatever plans you see fit."

Greywulf watched him walk away- something had changed in Sarevok. His taunts, his threats... all of that was still there, but he wasn't the same force of corruption he'd attempted to be before. Somehow, Greywulf wasn't sure if that made him more or less dangerous. Still, so long as he continued to prove useful, continued to help- or at least, not actively hinder, them... and as long as Jaheira didn't impale him. Or as long as Aerie didn't disintegrate him. In fact, perhaps it would be best if he was split from them for a time... Greywulf divided them mentally, then smiled as he felt the pieces begin to fall into place. This would be tricky to pull off... but if Sarevok went with her... and Haer'Dalis could masquerade as anyone, with his acting skills... while Viconia's abilities as a cleric would make her useful alongside that one... and those two would work very well together, if push came to shove. Yes.

Greywulf pushed himself off the wall, preparing to return to the group- a sound like thousands of bees buzzing through a sealed glass cage filled his head, the shock of it nearly driving him to his knees- he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to concentrate- there. The sound was filtering down, becoming bearable, becoming audible... a voice? Yes, it was becoming a voice, a familiar one...

_"Greywulf, can you hear me? This is Melissan... you are within your pocket dimension, yes?_ _Listen closely, I haven't much time. The forces of General Tombelthen are pursuing me, but I promised you a path to the rest of the Five, and I intend to keep my bargain. Speak with the monk Balthazar in Amkethran- the path to his monastery goes through the desert, due east from the oasis I sent you to. He will direct you to your enemies. I must retreat- they will find me soon if I do not continue my retreat. I will contact you again…"_

The echoing voice ripped itself from Greywulf's head like he was emerging from a pool of water, as though he could breathe again. The others hadn't noticed his sudden communication- and to be fair, he wasn't sure how he could even explain it. He'd cast long range mental attachment spells in the past, but it had required an item of some kind, to link the caster with the recipient. He hadn't given her any such thing, had he? How had Tombelthen's forces found her? Had she sold them out to the General, was that why they'd been ambushed at the oasis?

He inhaled sharply, clearing his mind. Melissan was more than she appeared, that much was certain. A dubious ally at best, plotting their betrayal at worst. And if she could contact him so easily, here in his Pocket Plane... no, something was not right with their so-called ally. A mystery to unravel, or at least, once they'd taken care of the other Bhaalspawn. He could only hope that turning their back on her for the time being wouldn't end up being their downfall later.

He forced a smile onto his face, then strode to the table, planting both hands on it as the others glanced his way, quieting down a bit. "So, fearless leader, do we have a plan to coordinate this madness?" Viconia smirked, resting her chin on one palm as she gestured to the rest of the group with her other hand.

He couldn't help but grin a bit wider. "That we do. We all have a role to play... and thanks to a bit of information I just picked up, we all have a target too. Take some rest, gather your equipment, and let's all be ready to split up in a few hours. Three teams, three targets."

"So we will be handling the situation at Watcher's Keep after all, then? I wish to aid you in whatever ventures await, but I fear that for me, my mission for the Order must take precedence." Anomen inquired, relief flooding his features as Greywulf nodded, affirming the squire's hopes.

"If that's what it takes to get you on board, then we'll make the time, don't worry. Let's just hope Reynald hasn't run off by the time we get down there. Time flows... strangely, in this place. He should still be there. I hope."

X X X X X X

The initial madness of the influx of warriors and old friends had quieted down- after a thorough amount of disbelief, skepticism, and arguing about the plan, all had eventually agreed on it, and divided into the teams for their respective missions. Some of those men and women tasked to travel alongside one another had never done so before- it would be an interesting experience, to say the least. Those who were unfamiliar were, to their credit, trying to take a few moments to at least acquaint themselves with their new traveling partners. Which was good strategy, truth be told. It would be rather embarrassing to travel alongside a mage fond of the Sunfire spell and forget to duck when he or she began the incantations. Or in the case of one particular ranger that happened to be with them, neglect the fact that he had a tendency to slip into berserker rages every now and then and prepare to... well, again, duck.

Luckily for Nalia, she had already traveled with all of her companions, not that it mattered much to her. She was leaning against the encircling shards of rock around the platform, waiting impatiently. Her leather boot tapped and tapped, a small token of her unhappiness at being forced to wait for the others. She hadn't left De'Arnise Keep lightly- the promise of the power that Watcher's Keep offered was enough to draw her into this quest, but that didn't mean she liked leaving her home, her people.

She brushed her dirty blonde hair away from her face for a moment, sighing in what was a most un-lady like huff. Her companions for the task ahead had changed ever so slightly- Greywulf had replaced Solaufein, giving them two capable fighters in Anomen and Reynald and two magic users in her and the half-elf sorcerer. It would be good to have the Bhaalspawn fighting with them- she had witnessed his power first-hand several times, all when defending her home. It was not a debt she carried lightly, knowing how much she owed to those who had sacrificed to free the De'Arnise lands from Firkraag the Red. She had every intention of making good on that debt- whatever aid the Bhaalspawn needed from her would be there for the asking... and the power she could lend would only be greater after this expedition.

"Ho, little Nalia! Minsc is pleased to see you again, eh? It has been some long time since we feasted at your table!"

The jovial tones of the Rashemani ranger shook her from her introspection, Nalia smiling despite herself as the ranger rested one hand on her shoulder with a grin. "Minsc, it is good to see you alive and well. How have you been? Keeping out of trouble, I trust?"

The ranger threw his head back and laughed, his broad shoulders shaking with mirth. "Minsc and Boo do not stay out of trouble, we wade into trouble with a sword! And then once we are waist deep, we splash and frolic about until trouble no longer stains others with its dirty, murky depths! And how about you, eh? Has the gate that Minsc built stood firm against any more evil little orcs?"

Nalia smiled, thinking of the solid oak gate that the ranger had built himself, his own name carved rather messily on one of the logs comprising it. True to his word, it was a stout piece of construction, and had served to guard the entrance to the keep rather well. She nodded gracefully, taking the man's enthusiasm in stride. "It has, Minsc. I still owe you and the others a debt of gratitude for helping retake my home."

"We were simply glad to help- and a dragon to fight! We should be thanking you for that opportunity, yes? We will have tales to tell when we return home to Rashemen. Although that is perhaps a long time away." Minsc paused, considering his words. "And while we hope that Minsc and Boo and Aerie can go there soon... eh, perhaps we may not."

"Really? I had thought you would return to your homeland soon after restoring the souls of your friends." Nalia remarked, trying to remember the events that had taken place just scant months ago. It seemed like so much longer, now.

"No... no, Minsc and Boo could not leave, not just yet. Not while we are still needed to fight the good fight with our friends, eh?" Minsc laughed, but it was obvious the usual joviality was almost.. forced.

Nalia frowned, this sudden change of attitude quite unlike the ranger, or at least unlike how she had seen him the amount of time she'd spent in his company. "Minsc? Is something troubling you?"

For the first time since they had spoke, or really since Nalia had met the big man, he looked uncertain. His tone lowered and his smile turned serious, the ranger voicing his concerns to her. "With all that is going on, Minsc has been having a little trouble keeping his feet on the ground."

"What kind of trouble?" Nalia asked, unsure of why the ranger would come to her with his problems. Aerie was his so-called witch, he had traveled with the others for so much longer than her... but then she realized, looking at him. He didn't care. To him, she was just another friend, fighting for justice, as he would put it. There were few barriers, only strong bonds forged in battle. His way of looking at things was so much more black and white, so much easier. Much like she had been, once upon a time...

"Well, with all this talk of gods, where will Minsc and Boo fit in?" he pondered, glancing upwards into the dispassionate green swirling void. "Swords have little effect on the heavens. Even magical swords like the one Minsc carries. And it is a very good sword, believe me!"

"Minsc, nothing can withstand the might of your righteous fury." Nalia said with a smile, unable to try to change the ranger, or explain to him that in many ways, he was right. It was what she had learned, that for all her noble intentions and for all the help she'd given to the poor of her land, sometimes the direct path, the simple route just wasn't enough.

"Nothing that *stands* can withstand it, but floaty specters of evil gods incarnate may as well be made of the hot air they spew." the ranger sighed. "But I have spoken to others about this, like Imoen. She has told me that it is all about belief, and whether or not Minsc believes he can kick their tails. I *believe* that I can stick a thumb in the eye of evil no matter what head it is moored to. Perhaps that is enough. We shall have to see. Thank you for listening, little Nalia. I look forward to when we can fight side by side once more!"

Nalia nodded and smiled as the ever-addled ranger took his leave, no doubt returning to his charge, the elf mage seated beside Imoen as the two talked and swapped a few stories. Minsc's nature, his tone was far too reminiscent of what she had once been like. So idealistic, so naïve. But strangely compelling... the ability to boil everything down to a simple equation, good or evil, right or wrong. For people like her, it just wasn't possible. But alone with her thoughts, Minsc's words echoing in her mind... she wished it still was.

On the other side of the Pocket Plane, Greywulf's eyes fluttered, taking a brief, few hours of rest while they still had the time, propped up on top of a bedroll with Jaheira lying at his side. Splitting up had not been a decision she had been particularly happy about... but in the end, they'd made it work. She was more protective of him now than ever, and he of her... but to make their plan work, the divide had to be in place.

"Mmpph... how long's it been...?"

"Just an hour or two." she replied quietly, "We have a while yet should you wish to rest longer."

He elbowed himself up to a fully seated position, running a hand across his face to clear the cobwebs. "I probably shouldn't. Everyone's impatient to get started, I think. It's a little easier when you don't know what's coming, but preparing for something like this..."

"Imoen and the others can handle themselves well enough without us. Solaufein is... protective of her. Sarevok will not try anything foolish with the drow guarding her." Jaheira said, although she would not put anything past the Deathbringer. "They will draw Jamis' army quite easily, once word of her and Sarevok's travels get out. I admit, the idea of using Haer'Dalis to masquerade as you? I'm impressed, whelp."

"I have my moments." he said with a hint of smug satisfaction. "Imoen, Sarevok, Solaufein and Haer'Dalis lead the army of Tethyr on a merry chase, while Minsc, Aerie, you and Cernd head to Amkethran and find out who this 'Sendai' is that's been sending assassins after us. All the while, Anomen, Reynald, Nalia and myself head to Watcher's Keep, conveniently out of the way of anywhere Tombelthen will be searching. Until word spreads that we were in the area of course. The General won't know where to look once we're through."

"Perhaps... though I still wish I was accompanying you." she grumbled, stifling a yawn. He noticed, frowning at her.

"Did you get any rest? Tell me you weren't staying up watching Sarevok in case he decided that now would be the best time to murder us all in our sleep..."

She glared and elbowed him gently for the comment, but shook her head, her eyes drifting to stare at the rocky ground they were seated on. "No... sleep simply did not come easily for me. Perhaps we did not have the time register what we had seen, back at Saradush... but I can remember the devastation all too clearly, now. So many lives lost, all for... what? I am troubled, Greywulf... I hope I am not alone in this."

"You aren't..." he murmured, although the somber tone in Jaheira's voice was far deeper than anything he felt. Was it simply that he had grown use to the carnage that his blood caused? The Slayer's influence, guiding him along a path of blood? Whatever it was... he'd promised to be more open. To let the others know what kind of path he was following, and where it would lead. They could keep him on the straight and narrow... or at least, he hoped they could. "I admit, I do not feel the grief, the shock that I had thought I would. Maybe that you feel right now- I have sympathy for those hurt because of who I am, but... little else."

His admission did not startle Jaheira as much as he had thought it might- whether that was good or bad, he hadn't decided. She remained silent for a moment, then gazed at his features, elven ears quivering gently. "I worry for you. You seem distant, when the carnage is so real, so near. I know you worry for others, but I hope you are not immune to the pain yourself. Greywulf, please do not lose yourself. You care about your fellow beings, about me. I do not know if the gods have such feelings... we are so small to them."

His initial intent was to comfort, to remind her that he had everything under control... but that was what had almost led him to his fall, hadn't it? Thinking he could carry the weight of his taint without any sort of help, without any consequence. Sarevok had goaded him into it, slowly, subtly. He needed to be honest with her. They would be separated for a time... and the possibility existed, one of them could die. That thought was always there, always just around the corner. Honesty... and honesty wasn't always easy. "I know... and I know why you worry for me. The power is enticing... it calls to me each day, each battle. When I think about using it, I imagine how much good could be done with it, how I could change the grand scheme of things so easily."

"And the small things? Will they simply... work themselves out?" Jaheira smiled, but it was sad, accepting his attempts to be straight with her, but it was made no less difficult, in the end. "It is... it is possible that by the end of this you will become a god yourself. What kind of role would that take you into? An avenging solar, or a marauding demon? Neither is a creature of balance. Neither is anchored in the world of mortals. Please, give thought to your actions while we are apart. I do not want to lose you to this beast you carry within. Be careful."

She quieted, her worries settling within, and he knew that there was little he could say to quell them. He nodded, letting her head rest on his shoulder as they sat together in silence for a little longer. Just a few minutes more, a few moments to enjoy the calm before the storm. A god, and all the power to decide his fate for eternity... or a mortal, struggling and fighting and dying beside the family he'd made here on earth. It would be one hell of a choice to make, given the opportunity in the end. One hell of a choice.

X X X X X X

Reynald sucked air greedily as he climbed the steps leading to the top of Watcher's Keep, a massive obelisk that stretched high into the air, massive in size and scope, shining in the distance to anyone who approached. The base of the tower was buried deep under ground, and the gigantic scale of the construct spoke to how intricate the insides must have been.

The outer shell was comprised of marble, smooth walls with rough trim that had grown moss and vines upon it over the ages. The stairway leading from the ground to the top of the tower was a steep climb, but Reynald refused to relent. Not until he knew where his companions were, where they had been spirited off to. He ran through the events of a few hours ago through his head once more- the four of them had just risen to the top of a hill that allowed them visibility over the next few miles- and there, in the distance, was the mighty Watcher's Keep, finally visible after such a long trek. The sight was... electric, if he could describe it in any way. Somehow, just seeing it raised a feeling of anticipation and dread in equal parts- a strange bit of unease for someone who had been involved in so many battles in the past.

And then, as though the sight of the tower had been a signal or a trigger, blinding light and shone all around, nearly blinding the former paladin with its intensity. He had called out, hearing shouts from his companions- and when the light vanished, they were gone, leaving small semicircles in the ground where they had been standing, smoking with the power and magic that had taken them.

Watcher's Keep was still mostly a mystery to Reynald- all he had known was what Anomen had told them before departing upon this quest- some sort of Imprisoned One lurked inside, and the seals binding it needed renewal. The Knights of the Vigil, eternal guardians of the Keep had somehow failed in their duties and needed aid... and that in itself should have told him this situation was more dire than anything he had imagined prior.

He pushed himself up another score of stairs, trying to keep his wind as he drove higher and higher. Gods, climbing stairs in plate mail was not the best plan he'd ever had. But if there was any chance at finding his friends... the Keep was the best place to start looking. He had seen lit torches and small figures upon the apex of the tower, at the entrance to the tower above. Knights of the Vigil, perhaps? Eternal defenders of this mysterious keep, beholden to no man except the will of Helm. Their sense of devotion shamed him, but he pushed the thoughts away. There was no time to wallow in self-pity or mourn his lost honor. He had long since made peace- or at least tried to- with the fact that he had been drummed out of the Order for his inability to maintain his vows. There was nothing to be done about it; a fallen paladin was never welcome back in the Order, no matter what kind of reconciliation was done.

Anomen was not yet a full fledged knight... nor had he fallen away from the service. When Anomen had confronted him months ago, in bitterness, alone and hearing naught but the spiteful words that the arrogant squire had spoken to him, he had jealously wished for the Delryn warrior to befall the same fate as he, to understand the misery he had felt upon realizing how far that fall could be. Now... Anomen was a changed man, humbled by his experiences and by the example of others. Reynald had changed as well, and could only hope that his presence might serve as a reminder to Anomen of what could happen to him, should he allow it. Perhaps he might yet serve the Order in some small way, if only that.

He kept moving, kept pushing past pillars and stone tablets embedded upon the stairwell sides. In every one of them was a mention of The Imprisoned One, and each tablet had the seal of Helm emblazoned upon it. The frequency of these inscriptions and the symbols was so great, it would not be possible for any save a blind man to reach the top without knowing the purpose of this obelisk and which deity had sealed it closed in the first place... which did nothing to ease Reynald's mind. What kind of beast had Helm sealed away so fiercely, had gone to such lengths to warn intruders about? He finally crossed the threshold, the archway guarding the final passage to the large rectangular roof of the tower, where three knights watched and waited, each one turning to gaze upon the new arrival with a mixture of trepidation and relief. One of them stood, a bearded man with wide eyes, clad in grey mail and wearing a the Hand of Helm upon his breastplate. The wrinkles and scars on his face showed the sign of years spent in battle- he smiled and approached Reynald, pounding one gauntlet to his chest in salutation.

"Praise be to Helm, for answering our prayers of salvation! You are a member of the Radiant Heart, yes? Our please have not gone unheard then."

"I..." the question stung, though Reynald knew no offense could have been meant by it. "Sort of... though the story would take far too long to explain, methinks. You are members of the Knights of the Vigil, yes? My companions and are embarked on a quest from the Order to seek this place out and aid you in whatever mission you would have of us."

"Then you are a most welcome sight. I am Brother Odren, and behind me you will see Sister Garlena and Brother Pol. We are, unfortunately, all that remains of the Knights of the Vigil." the older man grimaced. "It is to our shame that our order has been reduced to this... but we must not fail in our calling."

"Aye... I know something of a devotion to a calling, and the consequences of coming up short to one's vows." he spoke carefully and quietly, nodding to the other two knights in turn. "I am Reynald de Chatillon, though I had hoped you might be able to tell me something of where my companions had disappeared to. When we rose atop the hill that allowed us view of the Keep proper, they vanished in brilliant magics. Was that the Keep's doing?"

Odren frowned, shaking his head slowly, his brow knit. "I... do not think so. Although the Imprisoned One does indeed stir in his slumber below, I do not think he has regained such a measure of power to which you speak. We should seek out those companions you brought with you- you will surely need them to assail the vaults and traps below."

"Hold, friend... we do not even know the task to which we are assigned." Reynald raised a hand. "And if you are to explain, I should like to have the others here as well-"

A thunderclap echoed all around them as a tear in the void appeared among them, splitting reality itself. Three figures emerged from the tear, flickering in and out of the maw of nothingness until they regained their solid form, becoming flesh and bone again in the mortal plane. Greywulf blinked once, glancing upwards, smiling at the sight of blue sky, white clouds, and the distinct sound of birds and trees rustling in the breeze. Much better than green sky, black clouds, and the howls of demons.

"By the gods, my friends! You return- what happened?" Reynald exclaimed, rushing to them as the Knights of the Vigil leapt from their posts, rushing to see the newcomers as well. "You vanished as though whisked from this plane by a djinni- and now you return in the same fashion. What sorcery befell you? I-"

"All in good time, Reynald- it does me good to see you still here. We had hoped to return before you assaulted the Keep without us." Anomen met the man in a brotherly embrace. "As you can see, Lady Nalia returns with us, although Solaufein has left to seek a different path. In his place Greywulf of Candlekeep joins us instead. I am sure you remember him..."

"Are we to assume these are the fellows you had lost?" Odren interrupted, his blade half-drawn as he watched the reunion with uncertainty. "I would know if they are allies to be welcomed or denizens of that plane they emerged from- the screams echoing from within..."

"Yeah... sorry about that." Greywulf winced, rubbing the back of his neck. I wouldn't call us denizens of the hells... not exactly. I'll explain later... I actually have something of a favor to ask, once we get started. But rest assured, we are here to help though- Anomen's the leader of this particular expedition though. Squire?"

"Aye. I'm not sure what Reynald has spoken to you of yet, but we are from the Radiant Heart, answering your call for aid. The Prelate himself gave me this task to fulfill- by Helm, we shall see it through. Tell us, what can be done to aid such a worthy sect?"

"Er... very well then, squire... Anomen, was it?" Odren cleared his throat, glancing at the locked vault door enshrined behind them. " As you know, we are...a small sect that was given a most solemn charge by the Vigilant One, Helm, Himself."

"A charge we are unable to fulfill, sadly," the robed woman behind Odren added, a great sadness in her weathered features. How long had these men and women been guarding this tomb, the party wondered?

"I had heard of your Order before this quest, but little details." said Anomen.. "If you are unable to do as Helm has asked... that must be a cause for great sadness and concern, I would imagine. The god of Duty asks much of His followers."

"Indeed," Odren replied. "Helm appeared to us during the Time of Troubles, when all gods but He walked Faerun as mortals. A great evil had been imprisoned, he said, and we were to be its keepers. Watcher's Keep, this ruin you see before you, was once a great prison for the most terrible foes of the gods. It was abandoned for many, many centuries until Helm came to us with His news. The old prison would not hold this great evil for long, He said. Our order would have to maintain a vigil, to watch for the day when the evil would begin to break the great seals and escape."

"And... I presume that the day you speak of has come?" Greywulf asked.

"Aye." Odren nodded. "The great evil struggles within, and has infected the Watcher's Keep to the point where we cannot bypass the creatures and foul magic that blocks our path."

"A simple enough task, if unpleasant." Nalia frowned. "Enter this dungeon and dispose of the beasts in our path. Your order could not accomplish this?"

If the insinuation of weakness in their ranks bothered the Knights of the Vigil, they did not show it. Brother Pol, who looked to be the eldest of the three, spoke up, his gray and wizened features sad but gentle. "We... are not the Order we once were. Where once our ranks were composed of dozens, we are but three now. Many knights gave their lives defending this place from looters, treasure hunters who wanted the magics and relics located inside, uncaring of the dangers lurking within, or the risk of releasing the Imprisoned One."

"Bah- defilers and thieves." Anomen spat, righteous indignation in his voice at the thought. "And through their interference they have opened possibilities that should never have been. It grieves me to see a proud order such as your own in this state."

"It is our shame that we are too weak to get to the lower vaults and enact the ritual that will strengthen the old seals once again." Odren sighed, but hope glimmered within his eyes as he looked upon the four that stood before them. "Our need is obvious- we require a group to enter the Keep and descend to the lower vault so they may repair the mystic seals. When completed, the Imprisoned One will be forced into captivity once more, and our duty shall be fulfilled."

"I admit, I am curious as to the nature of this beast." Reynald frowned, glancing at the tower itself, the structure, the power it had been created to withstand from within. "What can you tell us of the monster guarded so well below?"

Sister Garlena shook her head, clutching her hands together. "There is little enough we can say that you cannot discover by reading the tablets upon the sides of the Keep. Perhaps there may be more clues to be found inside Watcher's Keep itself, but Helm only called it the 'Imprisoned One', saying it was a being of great cunning and power. Enough so that Helm himself was forced to deal with its presence."

"Interesting," commented Nalia, her eyes narrowing as she listened. "A god was forced to deal with your Imprisoned One? No ordinary apparition, this."

"There were five seals upon the final tomb that held the Imprisoned One below." Pol recited, gesturing towards a stone tablet embedded in the side of the archway they stood below. "One by one, they have faltered under the weight of time and the power of the beast below. Were we able to reach that vault, we might have repaired them as they weakened, but... it has been years since any of our members set foot in the lower levels of the Keep."

"And how did the Keep grow to be such a haven for traps and monsters? Did Helm place them inside as guardians when he created this place?" Greywulf inquired.

"Some of them... there are those inside who guard the way to prevent intruders... or perhaps to prevent escape." Odren murmured. "But many of the monsters lurking inside are no friend to the god of Duty- we cannot know for certain, but I fear that perhaps... perhaps the Imprisoned One summoned them, to keep us from reaching him as he broke free of his wards."

"Or worse yet, that his mere presence upon this mortal plane attracts creatures of evil to him." Garlena added, shaking her head. "We do not know which would be the worse possibility, truly."

"Here, the holy symbol of Helm." Odren reached into the robes hanging loosely outside his plate mail and handed Anomen a circular disk, the picture of a gauntlet with an eye in the middle inscribed upon it. Anomen felt the tips of his fingers tingle through his gauntlet as he touched it- the divine power indwelt within the magical item was apparent to all nearby. "This symbol will allow you passage through the entry of the tomb, but more importantly, it will also grant you passage to leave. Many a would-be bandit or robber tried to sneak past our guard into the temple in years past, but those who managed to get past our guard never left. Without this seal, they were unable. A troubling fate, but a just one for those who would defy the will of Helm."

"So why guard this place so fiercely, if they could never leave?" Greywulf asked with a frown. "Unless... the Imprisoned One-"

"Yes, that was our fear." Odren nodded. "Helm spoke of this creature's wisdom, his intelligence. If some managed to reach the inner sanctum, converse with this bound creature, would it be possible that it could use its power to allow them to leave? To breach Helm's wards enough for them, but not itself? Perhaps. We did not know. The power of our Lord is mighty, but even his strength can fade over time."

Greywulf glanced at Anomen- both knew what the other was thinking. What of Greywulf's ability to access the Pocket Plane? Would it too be denied him once they entered this most mysterious of dungeons? "I see... interesting. We shall keep the symbol well in hand then- being trapped inside Watcher's Keep for all time wasn't exactly what I'd intended when I talked about losing Tombelthen's army."

"The second item you will need to reverse the damage done to the wards below is the ritual scroll that will unleash the power of Helm upon the seals binding the Imprisoned One to his tomb." Pol stated, handing Greywulf the scroll, a wax seal keeping the weathered parchment closed. "You look to have the training of a wizard- it should be no issue for you, but theoretically anyone could read aloud the words inscribed within and unleash Helm's seal. It only needs be read in the presence of the Imprisoned One and all will be complete. The issue will, of course, be reaching the Imprisoned One himself."

"The Keep was originally built for the purpose of entombing horrors that were too powerful to be set free upon the land- it had been abandoned for several centuries before Helm restored it's purpose. When trapping the Imprisoned One to begin with, he asked half our Order to sacrifice themselves, to become spirits guarding the Keep and adding to the ancient seals that were already in existence. The spirits will guard against all who enter...they cannot be reasoned with. Add to this the evil which has infected this place... your journeys will not be easy. I can only imagine the horrors you will face to realize the fulfillment of this task. When you finally reach the lowest level, you must open the final seal to gain access to the Imprisoned One, himself. I...do not know what state he will be in. Read the ritual quickly before he attacks."

Anomen nodded, tucking the holy symbol of Helm into his pack as he checked his gear one last time before they began their sojourn into the depths below. "What of logistics? The Keep itself, can you tell us anything of its layout? Where we might find rooms to take rest, or traps to watch for?"

"I believe there are five separate levels within the Keep, the fifth of which is the lower vault that allows access to the Imprisoned One, himself." Pol replied, crossing his arms beneath his robes." Each will have a seal that prevents access to the next level. I know little of what manner of seals are in place, however, nor how they might be overcome. They are meant to prevent simple access, however, so unlocking the seals will not be simple."

"Fair enough... although there has been a question bothering me since we started this, if you don't mind me asking." Greywulf grimaced, fixing Odren with a stare. "You've been very helpful... but we still don't know just what this thing actually *is*. Or why we even have to bother with sealing it up again- why can't we simply kill this Imprisoned One and be done with it all?"

Odren's eyes widened and he shook his head wildly, raising both hands in protest. "Oh, no no! The Imprisoned One must not be killed! Helm has strictly forbidden us from even attempting to slay the beast... if, indeed, it even can be killed to begin with. Perhaps death, too, would be a form of freedom?"

"Which would suggest that this thing isn't really from around here." the half-elf rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

"Perhaps, but it is too late to turn back now." Anomen replied firmly, giving no chance to deny their task. "Brother Odren, you have my word that we will complete this task. This day shall be remembered as the day when the Order of the Radiant Heart stood alongside the Knights of the Vigil and overcame whatever evil waits below!"

"May Helm go with you then, brother." Odren smiled sadly, resting one hand on Anomen's pauldron, before glancing at Greywulf inquisitively. "Though if I might, perhaps you may return the favor to me, lad. A question for a question. I sense the power that summoned you and your fellows to Reynald's side came from you. Just what kind of magics were those- who are you?"

Greywulf gave his companions a sideways glance- telling the Knights of the Vigil of Greywulf's heritage had been part of the plan, although they'd anticipated telling them after their task was done. Getting the Knights to spread some word of their presence at the Keep would be just one more rumor for General Jamis to check out, and if they arrived long after the group was gone, then it would buy the others more time to find the remaining members of the Five. Telling them now though? A risk, if nothing else.

He sighed, weighing the chances of what might happen- they were desperate men and women. And Helmites took their duties as seriously as anyone- turning away help to fulfill those duties would be unlike them. Besides, if all else failed... they still had the Pocket Plane to retreat to... or at least, while outside the Watcher's Keep. "A fair question, after what you just saw. I suppose I should explain. I'm sure you've heard of the Bhaalspawn crisis..."

X X X X X X

The Throne of Bhaal hummed with power, the souls and essence of those slain Children of the dead god swirling in a whirlpool of dark energy. High above it, Amelyssan surveyed the limits of her realm, watching the portions over which she could feel her control grow flex and warp according to her wishes. It was still difficult, exerting full influence over some of the more... stubborn parts. The Realm of Murder had fallen into disarray upon the death of Bhaal, and much of his realm had been claimed by other pretenders, usurpers to the Throne.

Cyric had, of course, taken over the portfolio of Murder itself, though he had been content to let the realm of Bhaal rot. His Land of Lies was more suited to the god's crafty ways, but at least it left Amelyssan something to do, a way to pass the time as she let her little game play its way to completion. Speaking of which- it was just about time she let her monk know what was headed his way.

She grimaced, allowing herself to float down to the solid ring that encircled the essence-accumulator stretching across the void. With the smallest hint of effort, her fiery red hair shortened and darkened to the dull brown color she wore when posing as this mortal benefactor, Melissan. Her armor vanished and the world around her brightened, grew rock and stone and life as the essence of reality changed to suit her needs. Within moments a portion of the Throne looked as though it was any countryside on the face of Faerun, a monotonous piece of landscape, completely forgettable in every way. She drew one long finger in an oval, trailing fire and dark orange energy behind it, until it blazed open into a portal that slowly shimmered into a portrait of the monastery of Amkethran.

Melissan flicked the portal and it rippled like the face of a pool of water, the echo reverberating through space-time until it centered in upon the ring that she had gifted Balthazar with- he would know she yet lived, and desired to speak with him. His magics would connect the two in moments- it gave her a few brief seconds to decide how to further mislead the idealistic fool, if nothing else. She could be patient, when she had to be. As time passed on, her face passed from a smirk to a scowl, the wait gnawing on her nerves. She *could* be patient... it didn't mean she liked to be. This was all unnecessary... the planning, playing the Bhaalspawn off one another, every bit of it was a waste of time. She was the one who had been siphoning the powers of the dead god, her! Amelyssan the Black-hearted, high priestess of Bhaal! Only she could command this plane so easily, and were she to choose to do so, she could wage war on all the remaining god-children and wipe them from the face of Faerun herself. It would be easy...

The portal cleared and Balthazar's face appeared in the mists, his lips pressed tight but betraying a touch of relief at seeing her despite himself. "I see you have escaped death once again, Melissan. I would ask your methods, but for now I am simply glad Tymora seems to favor you."

She forced away the rush of anger that she'd allowed herself to glory in for a moment and resumed the carefully constructed persona she'd allowed the world to see, giving the monk what appeared to be a nod of gratitude, never seeing the inward sneer, the ridicule she felt for him at how badly he was being played. "Your thoughts are appreciated, my friend. Regardless of my well-being, the important thing is that we are one step closer to ending this madness. You have heard of Yaga-Shura's death, I trust? Of course- I barely escaped with my life from that city..."

"And for that I am grateful. The others had asked about you- we recently... conversed, and I told them of the fire giant's fate." the bald monk spoke, choosing his words carefully. "The wards of Gorion are more powerful than any of us had assumed, I think. It may be time to unleash both Abazigal and Sendai upon them. I had toyed with the idea of letting them strike individually- I am certain they would all take greater losses in this manner, but to be sure that Greywulf and Imoen perish..."

Melissan stiffened- Balthazar had not regarded the wards of Gorion with such respect before- he had assumed they would fall beneath the might of the Five, without worrying over which member would be the one to destroy them. If that became too great a factor in the monk's mind.. he might actually survive. He might actually defeat Greywulf and Imoen. That would be... unexpected. She had based her plans, her tactics upon eliminating the Five with the help of those foolish adventurers, then wiping them out with the taint they'd unwittingly gifted her at the Throne. But Balthazar had a much greater understanding of the Bhaal taint, of the lore that he could, possibly, use to oppose her should it come to that. Time to up the stakes. Greywulf's arrival in Amkethran was to be a surprise to the monk- it would keep the monk guessing and distracted when he would need to be at his most centered. Perhaps it was time to change that.

She smiled again, then shook her head. "Against your forces? I think not, Balthazar. In fact, I was so certain of your superiority, I have sent them your direction now. They should be heading to Amkethran to seek you out. I told them that you had the location of both remaining Bhaalspawn-"

"What?" Balthazar broke from his usual calm, eyes wide as the tattoo on his forehead wrinkled with the anger flowing across his brow. "You know that the taint is easy to sense in another for those trained to do so! They will detect my heritage, know of my blood! I will not see the war come to my people's doorstep-"

"War does not spare anyone- this is a lesson you should have learned long ago." Melissan cut him off, her voice cold. "If they guess your blood, then take the opportunity and end their lives right there- surely you do not fear them? And if you can loose their powers on the others, then so much the better. You already have blood on your hands- isn't that why we made our deal in the first place? Why you joined the Five? To finally be rid of this taint on your soul? It will not be a righteous path to redemption, Balthazar..."

He cursed, then bottled his anger as abruptly as he'd released it. The smoldering rage was still in his eyes, but no longer in the open. He spoke softly, deliberately. "I will direct them to the others, as you say. But do not mock me, or the weight I carry upon my shoulders, Melissan. I do not do this for you, nor out of some notion that I might save my soul. I will free Faerun of Bhaal's influence, and if that means men and women must die... so be it."

"Good to hear." Melissan nodded. "Steel yourself- they will be at Amkethran within a few days, I'm sure. Keep that power of yours under control and they'll never know you're one of them. Speak to me when they've left."

Melissan stepped away from the portal, letting the communication collapse upon itself and shutting the magics with a small crackle of energy. She exhaled, letting her disguise and the warped environment return to its natural, true form. She had, admittedly, been more antagonistic during that last conversation than she should have been- the more she pushed Balthazar, the less he'd cooperate with her. Not that she feared him. Nor any of them. This whole charade, it angered her, frustrated her to no end. Only combined could the Bhaalspawn hope to challenge her, and that was precisely why she'd set them on one another. To guide the most powerful of them though... that took skill. Patience. Even in the face of her impending godhood, she had to remember that.

Amelyssan took a deep breath, calming her fiery temper as best she could. The fruits of her labor would be evident soon enough. She half-heartedly wondered which of the three Greywulf and Imoen would slay first... the dragon, the drow, or the monk? They'd certainly had experience with dragons in the past, as well as the Underdark elves. Monks... perhaps not. Balthazar had the best chance of killing them, she assumed, but thus far, she'd seen no evidence to believe that they wouldn't be capable of wiping one another out.

Still, her work with Balthazar had given her insight into many of his secrets, his strategies. She could predict what the monk would do, and knew just how to manipulate the man, using his martyr complex to fuel the guilt inside his head. He really thought he could wipe the taint from the earth? As though it were a stain to be washed aside with water? She laughed, shaking her head with a smirk as she strode to one of the essence pools surrounding the Throne of Bhaal.

Greywulf and Imoen... Imoen and Greywulf. Wild cards, unanticipated and unpredictable. She could help guide them, try to push them in the direction she wanted ,but they were not so easily manipulated, not like the monk. She had to simply hope for the best, use their power while she could, and then wipe them out with overwhelming force in the end. Could she do it now? The thought drove her mad with heady passion and rage again, but she pushed it away, refusing to let the essence of Murder overwhelm her just yet. Again, patience. Learning her enemy's weaknesses, their flaws, what made them tick... and how best to take advantage of it.

Amelyssan reflected upon that as she raised her spear-staff, the long golden rod lighting up and hissing as green energy was absorbed from the pool below, pushing aside the screams of the unwanted and useless, sifting through and finding the essence she desired. Only two men had ever attained such knowledge of her foes, had really and truly dove into their minds, understood them at the level she needed. One of them was Sarevok Anchev, the first of the Bhaalspawn she had considered a threat to her taking the Throne. Left unchecked, he might've pushed the Realms into a war she would have been unprepared for, unable to twist to her own power. If he had managed to truly absorb the essence of every Bhaal-child he killed, as he had intended... it would have been over before it began. He would have been the new god of Murder, and she would have been left with nothing. However, thanks to Greywulf and Imoen... that possibility was now gone.

She felt a tug, a familiar presence drawn to the seeker tendrils that her staff was spinning into the deep well of souls. She mentally commanded the weapon to bring out the one she sought, and before long, the essence of her prey began to form before her, manifesting in spirit, the flesh long since rotted and burned from the bone. Sarevok would not be there to challenge her for the Throne in the end... but he could've been one to supply her with the information she sought about Gorion's wards. His hatred for them would have been enough to provide all the motivation he needed to bring them to their knees. But by the strangest twist of fate, he was fighting alongside them now, a shell of humanity in a body formed by Imoen's soul gift, but alive nonetheless, and distinctly unavailable to her powers.

The soul she had sent for finally reformed fully, a whine in the air finally forming into a scream as the spirit took shape and voice, dropping to its knees in anguish before ceasing, realizing that it was no longer in eternal torment, no longer in agony as the denizens of the Hells tore into it with the fury that could only be directed at one whose atrocities were unspeakable. Amelyssan smiled as the spirit blinked once, twice, then chuckled humorlessly, rising to its ethereal feet. The other who could tell her about Greywulf and Imoen... Jon Irenicus, killed at the Tree of Life in Suldenesselar. He, on the other hand, was most certainly available to her.

_"So... I am summoned once more at your whim."_ his voice echoed with the sound of that which was distinctly unreal, but it had lost none of the arrogance he'd possessed in life. _"And for what purpose this time, priestesss of Bhaal? You want more information about the god-spawn who killed me? I have indulged you for some time now..." _

"Is that any way to speak to your savior, Irenicus?" Amelyssan asked, effecting a tone of shock. "I would have thought you grateful to be released from your everlasting torment, for even such a short time."

_"And what is a few moments of relief compared to an eternity of anguish?" _Irenicus' spectre sneered. _"Should I praise your benevolence for this meaningless gift? I speak only to assuage myself that the knowledge I pass along will end their lives all the faster, but even now I find that purpose __less... compelling, than it had been. If you still want my aid, my knowledge in helping to kill Greywulf and Imoen, I shall require something more of you."_

"Hmmm. I had anticipated you might make such a request, although the speed at which you resort to this bargain is surprising." Amelyssan noted. It was true- from the moment she'd chosen to call upon Irenicus' spirit for information regarding the Bhaalspawn, she knew what the ultimate price would be. She knew just what kind of deal would need to be made in order to make full use of the sorcerer's hatred. "Very well then. I scarcely need to ask what you wish- to speed this process for both our sakes, I shall grant you this boon. Do not waste it."

Amelyssan opened her mouth and screamed- a sonic boom that blew away the wraith before her, although in it's place something completely different began to emerge. Spirit was made into bone and muscle and sinew, internal organs began forming and the skin knit itself closed all around this thing that had once been a spirit, that had once been a man, that had once been an elf of Suldenesselar. A familiar mask and spiked skull cap enveloped the face and head while armored shoulder pauldrons flashed from the void to settle alongside the black robes and chest piece he had worn for so long. Thick leather boots covered his feet, purple lightning blazed from his hands, and as Jon Irenicus stood to his feet, fully flesh and blood once more, he smiled- a twisted, perverted sight.

"I ***LIVE*.**"


	29. Part 2: New Roads with Old Friends

_"I don't like it. Not at all."_

_ "Well, it's a bit late to change the plan now, isn't it?"_

_ "Jaheira can go in my place. She'll keep them in line… and maybe she'll even kill Sarevok. It'll be a win for everyone…"_

_ "That's not helping, Im. Quit pouting, it's not like we're going to be split up for that long." Greywulf chuckled as Imoen sulked beside him, watching as the group made final preparations before departing. He glanced at her as she leaned against the rocky cliffs, her bottom lip puffed out in a child-like display of unhappiness at the current situation. Despite his inclination to simply have a bit of fun at her admittedly overdone ill-temper, he simply rested a hand on her shoulder, getting her to glance at him, understanding and a tinge of sad acceptance in his eyes. "We'll all be fine and see each other on the other side. I promise."_

_ "You bufflehead- you shouldn't make promises you can't keep, you know that?" Imoen shot back, but she began to drop the facade of childish emotions as her face grew more serious. "I wish we were sticking together. I hate it when we have to split up. Reminds me of... bad times."_

_ He knew what she spoke of- Imoen had no need to clarify. Spellhold, the Underdark... too many memories wrapped up in those days, too many thoughts of tortures endured at the hands of the madman Irenicus, or the nights in the drow city of Ust Natha where she had thought her brother slain by a Balor._

_ She shuddered for a moment, then wrenched her thoughts away from such times. He watched, troubled by her inability to cope with those memories, even after so long, but she changed the subject quickly, easily, as was her wont. "So you're sending us down to the oasis again, right? What happens if that General and his men are still there? Not to say we couldn't handle ourselves, and I know Sarevok would love to wade through an army with that sword of his..."_

_ "But it might be a bit much to handle, I know." Greywulf nodded. He didn't respond right away. This... this was the hardest part of it all. To separate his feelings, his concern for their safety with what needed to be done. To treat his friends, his family, as soldiers in a war they'd never asked for. Something he promised he'd never do. Something he had just told Sarevok he wouldn't do. Something that, to win this fight... would have to be done. And the time was now. "You'll all find a way. I know it. Between you, Solaufein, Haer'Dalis and Sarevok-"_

_ "We'll all take out a b__unch of them before getting slaughtered." Imoen snorted. It was a callous thing to say- she knew he hadn't made the choice to split them up lightly. But they were siblings. Brother and sister, in both blood and bond. Nothing could shake it- nothing __**should **__shake it._

_ "Do not worry, child. As loathe as I am to admit it when he is in earshot, Greywulf is right. Should the worst occur at the oasis when you return, it will not be in vain. You will find a way- I have faith in you." Jaheira approached with Minsc, the four old friends taking a few moments together before leaving. "Though I must admit, I am curious to find out just what has transpired with Haer'Dalis since our last meeting. He was... less than reliable back in Spellhold."_

_ "Perhaps, but he seems eager to help now." Greywulf noted. "Not to mention his impression of me is... uncanny."_

_ "Boo agrees." Minsc nodded, slapping one hand one Greywulf's shoulder with a grin before pointing at the tiefling, now clad in gray robes and makeup lathered on his face to hide his scars."Sometimes he is unsure of who is who when the bard begins his impersonation. You should go show Greywulf your impression, eh?"_

_ The sorcerer cocked an eyebrow at Minsc for a moment as the ranger grinned at him, finally shrugging with acceptance. "Eh, Boo says perhaps I should leave the jokes to you and Imoen."_

_ The ranger's attempt at lightening the mood was valiant, if ineffective. Greywulf smiled regardless and nodded in appreciation. "Thanks, Minsc. I... uh, I know this isn't going to be easy for all of us, but I want you to know that whatever happens out there..."_

_ "Please, no more speeches or sappy goodbyes." Imoen cut in, though her tone was only half-serious. "If we're gonna do this, then we should just do it. Everyone's ready to go, and I don't know how much more of this standing around I can take..."_

_ The sorcerer laughed, then nodded with a smile. "Fair enough. That's it then- Minsc, Jaheira, I'll teleport you and your group out first, then Imoen's group, then mine. With any luck I'll be able to summon everyone back here, but... well, if I can't, everyone remember where to meet up once we're through?"_

_ "The plains south of the Windspear Hills- out of the way enough to avoid detection by Tethyr's army, but close enough to make in a few days travel." Jaheira confirmed._

_ "And the one to slay the forces of evil first buys the drinks for the rest!" Minsc boomed, raising a fist in triumph. "Let us be on our way!"_

_ The ranger's enthusiasm was enough to lift their spirits, if only for a moment. They said their final goodbyes, then drifted apart, joining their groups as they prepared to traverse through the maw that formed the passageway out of the Pocket Plane. Greywulf cleared his thoughts, preparing to open the portals out- it would take them back to the place that at least one of them had just been to- for Minsc's group, Viconia had mentioned that when summoned to the Pocket Plane, she had been taking refuge in a small village just south of Trademeet, easily a few days' travel back to the deserts surrounding Amkethran, but none had been closer._

_ Greywulf steadied his hand, cleared his mind, and with a rush of magic, the glowing vortex of energy opened up. Minsc, Aerie, Viconia, Cernd and Jaheira strode through the portal, the half-elf druid only taking a brief moment to gaze at Greywulf before vanishing in the light._

_ Behind them, the others prepared to depart- Imoen paused, biting her lip once more before leaving Greywulf's side completely. "Hey... uh... I just wanted to say that-"_

_ "No sappy goodbyes, right?" Greywulf cut her off gently. "I get it, Im. I really do. No matter what happens, we'll get through it together. You and me, all the way to the end, right?"_

_ Imoen met his earnest eyes, then nodded with a smile. "Damn straight."_

X X X X X X

The memory of her conversation with the closest thing she had to a family blasted through her mind as Imoen felt herself being transported through space-time, her body traveling faster than her mind could keep up with- before she even realized that the magical travel had ceased, she was standing under the noon-tide sun, in the midst of greenery and water surrounded by sand on all sides. The oasis in the desert- they were back. Right where they'd left from before...

"Hold! The Bhaalspawn and their fellows return!"

A shout managed to find her foggy hearing, and Imoen shook her head for a brief second before she blinked, trying to adjust quickly. Not that she and the others would be allowed much time. Swarming down toward their position from the sand dunes was a compliment of soldiers bearing the Tethyr banner- though the number of men who opposed them was significantly smaller than it had been when they'd fled previously. A cursory estimate showed at least three dozen men- mostly swordsmen but a few archers hanging back and maybe one or two mages by the cut of their robes.

"My, but you folk get into some terrible situations." Haer'Dalis murmured with a sideways grin to the thief-mage, as he quickly turned his face to a scowl, staring down the approaching soldiers with a look that was… well, Greywulf. A grimace of determination, that small grit of the teeth when things looked bad- he had it down. And under the gray hood and with the makeup covering some of his more distinguishing features… any passerby who saw him standing with the likes of Sarevok and Imoen would have to assume the worst.

"I give you one chance- lay down your arms and allow us safe passage, or we will not be responsible for what fate befalls you." Haer'Dalis commanded, no trace of the flowery language or the melodic tone that usually filled his voice. Had Imoen not traveled with her brother for so long, she might've been taken in by the deception. As it was, she could only hope that their pursuers hadn't studied her brother too much. Still, best not to let them focus on the impostor for too long.

"Come on folks... if we really wanted to kill you all we'd have done it already." Imoen challenged, fixing a confident smile on her face that she really didn't feel. "Yer all just lucky that Greywulf got his composure back. Now what say y'all clear a little path and we can go our separate ways, huh?"

"You waste your breath appealing to these simpletons, sister." Sarevok cut in, unsheathing the Blade of Chaos, the wicked blade gleaming in the hot desert sun. "Let us slaughter them and be done with it."

Behind the three- or at least two- Bhaalspawn, Solaufein withdrew further beneath his hood and cloak, slowly drawing a throwing knife from his belt and clutching it tightly in one hand, his other hand going to the wand that both Sarevok and he had been given in case their attempts at persuasion were less than successful. Solaufein hated back-up plans. If the original idea was poor enough to merit having not one but two back-ups, then it shouldn't have been attempted in the first place. And yet... somehow he had agreed to this foolishness.

He studied the mage in the back- he looked to be the eldest, probably the most powerful. The throwing knife could easily go the distance, although hitting his neck at range might be problematic. He sighed inaudibly, waiting to hear the resolution of their attempts at 'diplomacy'. It hadn't been that long since he'd left the Underdark for the surface, but he'd already realized something. Having friends made you get involved in stupid things.

"We will not be intimidated by the likes of you!" one of the Tethyrian men stepped forth from the others- he was an officer of some higher order in the army- no general, but more than likely the man Tombelthen had left in command of these others upon their initial retreat. "If you surrender, we can promise those who are not Bhaalspawn a fair trial. For you three, we will make your deaths as easy as possible."

"Oh gosh, those are our options? Well let me think!" Imoen said with both an excitement and a sarcasm that she had to fake. It was rapidly looking like this man would be as thickheaded as General Jamis had been- for as good as she was at talking her way out of things, it didn't look like this would be one of those times. Which if that was the case, meant escaping with their lives, and keeping the General's men on their tails so the others could go after the Five without interference.

"Brother, they are clearly unwilling to see reason. Simply give the order and I will have their carcasses rotting in the sun." Sarevok gestured to Haer'Dalis, and Imoen had to admit, the Deathbringer was selling the ruse quite well. In fact, the only thing that seemed off to her was how cooperative he was being. Murderous and dangerous to all bystanders, but cooperative nonetheless. Sarevok fixed his unearthly golden glare upon the captain of the Tethyr forces, and Imoen could begin to see the big warrior's presence take it's toll- knees started shaking, and sweat gleamed on the military man's forehead.

"Hmm... if not by persuasion, then perhaps by intimidation." Haer'Dalis murmured, just loud enough for the others to hear, before he threw back his cloak and raised one hand, letting a fireball ignite in his palm. The magics that the bard commanded were much less potent than anything Greywulf or Imoen could conjure, but to anyone watching, they would have no idea that the bard was not, in fact, a sorcerer. "Do you all truly wish to throw your lives away? You will not stop us, and your General has abandoned you here to fight this battle alone. Go and rejoin him to seek us out if you truly wish to test yourselves against us. This pursuit is folly."

"I...I-" their commander's will was breaking, faltering, but with the backing of so many soldiers, he might just turn to violence if pushed hard enough. Which was, of course, why Sarevok was fully prepared should this plan fail and the situation turn into a bloodbath. The Deathbringer flexed his grip once, twice, feeling the familiar weight of his sword in his hands as he waited for the opportune time to speak again. They would not allow them passage without some kind of compromise, that much he was certain of. Whether that meant slaughtering all of them or enacting the magics they had talked about earlier...

"No! You shall not bewitch us with your tainted blood! To arms, men! For Tethyr!" the commander finally shouted, raising his blade and charging forward with a shout from his troops-

A flash of light enveloped the whole army as Imoen and Haer'Dalis shouted trigger words to their spell sequencers, and both Sarevok and Solaufein produced wands and shouted the activation words...

_The army stumbled, clutching their eyes and trying to blink away the sudden haze and fog that had overcome them- thundering across the desert sands toward their group were four monstrous figures, gleaming with power and unyielding strength. At their lead was the mighty sorcerer Greywulf, his gray robes whipping and whirling in the winds summoned by this arcane master of god-magics. His __eyes flashed with the light of a thousand suns and his voice shook the very heavens as he spoke words that ripped the earth asunder, enveloping men in the cracks that formed beneath their feet. In one hand he held a surging bolt of lightning that he hurled at his foes, leaving charred skeletons behind. His other hand warped and changed by the second, becoming human, then demonic, growing long talons and red fur that could only be the beginning of his transformation into the avatar of Bhaal. Every solider who opposed him fell before his unyielding magics._

_ The drow warrior was almost impossible to see- he was a swirling mist of dusk and shadow, red, wraith like eyes enveloped in black, inky oblivion. Those he passed by gasped and fell to the ground as if he were the specter of Death itself, skin crumbling like old parchment from the bones of those who fell to his poisoned blade. He was not simply a form inside a hood and cloak- he was the shadow itself. The darkness. A formless, nameless fear that could seep past any defense- shields and swords could not pierce the veil, and all who tried were enveloped and left shivering in the cold before breathing their last. _

_ Sarevok's mammoth form strode across the battlefield with impunity- his armor covered in blade after blade, he was a living embodiment of death and war that could not be touched by any, so great was his power and skill. His sword was pulsing with the blood of his victims- each life it claimed, it absorbed that blood and life and grew stronger. Even spells and powers of lightning and fire and ice all shattered against his armor and blade. A bolt of lightning soared toward him, but the Deathbringer's eyes flared, blazing with energy as he swung his sword into it, severing the energy in two and redirecting it as it turned on it's masters, frying the mages who had dared to attack this seasoned killer. _

_ Imoen, the daughter of Bhaal, sauntered over the fallen bodies of her enemies, ruby-red lips pursed in amusement at those who would try to stop them as she threw her head back, running long nailed fingers through blonde tresses of hair that ran down the length of her back. Bare skin glowed with power as she leaned forward, her voluptuous form enticing those men who would dare gaze at her heavenly body clad only in silken robes and a chainmail brazier, before she let the magics of Bhaal blaze from her fingertips and-_

"Ok, time out. Hold on just one dang second!" Imoen sputtered as Haer'Dalis paused. Imoen ran one hand across her face as she exhaled sharply. By the gods, now she remembered why she hated bards. "Just what the heck do y'think you're doing, huh?"

"Nothing more than you had asked, my dear." Haer'Dalis nodded, gesturing to the crowds of people all lying in the sand, fast asleep thanks to four Sleep spells cast simultaneously. The group would be out for at least a full day, and when they woke, they'd all remember something entirely... inaccurate. Though the measure of inaccuracy was getting slightly out of hand, if Imoen had anything to say about it. "Is something the problem, my wildflower? You asked me to craft a memory for each one of these sleeping beauties for you to introduce to their slumbering minds..."

Imoen's death glare finally elicited a sigh from the tiefling bard- he raised his hands in defeat, shaking his head. "Ah, but it appears you are not amused at my interpretation of events. If it makes you feel any better, all the sorceresses in the greatest of stories are blonde haired, ample bosomed seductresses. I was simply doing my part to immortalize your in the annals of this Realm."

"Yeah, well you can immortalize me wearing something that makes sense. Now let's get this thing finished up so we can get out of this desert. Wouldn't want the General to start nosing into the others' doings." Imoen grumbled as she raised her fingers to her temples, a soft glow surrounding them as she attempted to introduce Haer'Dalis visions to their minds.

As the bard continued his tale, false memories overwhelming the memories of their foes and replacing them with the fantasies of the tiefling, Solaufein shifted his weight, the wheels of his mind turning and turning. Sending the General and his army on a wild chase all throughout the desert, each man remembering something different, a different direction to search or a different lead to chase, that was all well and good, but he had learned long ago in the depths of Ust Natha that to truly defend yourself, a warrior could do no better than to strike deep into what the enemy considered their strength. To drive a wedge into the heart of their forces was demoralizing and unexpected- it could end a war before it could truly begin.

"I... have been thinking of this matter- there may be a way for us to better our chances of defeating these god-children while keeping Tethyr's eye fixed upon us." Solaufein mused. "I had not mentioned it to you yet, but one of the remaining god-children is most assuredly a drow- her assassins appeared in Letherel in an attempt to kill you, should you have remained there."

"Yeah... that sounds right." Imoen nodded with a grunt, blowing a strand of sticky hair from her face as she continued her work, gently twisting and turning through the mental passageways of the sleeping soldiers. "We got... hnh... attacked by drow in Saradush too. Said something about a leader named Sendai."

"I think I begin to see where you are headed, elf." Sarevok smiled broadly, although the look did not suit him. Somehow, even his smile sent chills down Imoen's spine. "You think we ought bring the fight to this Bhaalspawn rather than simply lead Tethyr's finest on a chase through the Realms. I find your idea much more compelling than a game of hide and seek."

"That... ugh... gragh... that still leaves us with the issue of an army to handle. I'm guessing she had more drau... haahh... more drow than the ones she sent after us." Imoen wheezed, the strain on her magics becoming greater as she finished the spell. Before she could say more, she whispered a final magic word to solidify the false memories and a burst of magic ended the spell, blowing her backward into the sandy dunes. The tiefling bard moved quickly,grabbing her by the shoulder and steadying her tottering form. "Ah... ahha... thanks for that. I almost forgive you for the chainmail bra. Almost."

"It seems my lot in life is to be subject to a never-ending stream of judgmental audiences and fickle listeners." the bard shook his head in mock sorrow. "How cruel fate can be at times. My wit and inspiration stifled not once but twice by yon raven's companions. The ptarmigan was just as opposed to some of my attempts at immortalizing her in song and verse."

"The ptarm- oh, you must be talking about Jaheira. Gods, I'm surprised you'd even dare tempt her like that." Imoen snorted, wiping sweat from her brow as she eventually pushed off of the bard's shoulder. "So don't keep us in suspense, Solaufein. What's yer big idea?"

"It'll take some legwork, but once we locate her we bring the fight to this Sendai." the drow said, trying to hold back the tight smile that was threatening to break out on his ebony features. "And should she truly bring an army to bear against us... well, it'll be quite handy that an army will be trailing us, won't it?"

"Ah... you would use the army of Tethyr, hellbent on killing all Bhaalspawn that cross their path, as fodder to clear a way to our true enemy?" Haer'Dalis eyes brightened and he threw his head back with a melodic laugh. "You are a man after my own heart, my dark hunting hawk. Let us see depart and proceed with all haste."

"Not too fast though- we wouldn't want to lose these guys completely." Imoen smirked, walking to Solaufein and slapping him across the back with a nod of appreciation. "You've got your moments, you know that?"

The drow elf met her eyes, his red pupils glinting with satisfaction. "I do, in fact."

X X X X X X X

The sigil stone, given to Anomen by the Knights of the Vigil, glowed brightly with radiant energy as the four adventurers passed through the veil that separated the insides of Watcher's Keep from the outer world. It felt as though they were passing through a pool of water, standing up. Greywulf suppressed a shiver as his skin tingled, the warding magics yielding to allow them passage as they ventured in. The passageway was a long stairwell leading down into darkness, torches lit with blue fire on either side of the hall.

Anomen descended first, holding his family shield tightly to his body as he gripped his mace in the other hand, ready for an attack from the darkness. Reynald was close behind the squire, his sword gripped in one hand and a tower shield in the other as his eyes flitted back and forth, watching for any kind of movement from below- while the magic flame on the torches along the walls was certainly enough to keep them from falling down the stairs, the torches below refused to shine until they were close enough to touch them, leaving them with only just enough light to see right where they were standing.

Nalia glanced toward the walls, the stone and rock engraved with countless symbols and inscriptions of Helm. As they continued the endless descent, it became abundantly clear to the noblewoman that the symbols were beginning to repeat themselves, a hypnotic loop of devotion, carved by either the guardian god's followers or the Lord of Duty himself. Nalia ran her fingers across the stone, leaving dust streaks and cobwebs in her wake, sign of how long it had been since there had been any travelers through that passage.

"It's a story... the inscriptions read,_ 'He also serves who stands and waits and watches carefully. Such is the lesson of the Great Guard, Helm of the Unsleeping Eyes. Let the events of this forgotten temple serve as an example to all who would follow the Vigilant One. Beneath this hallowed earth the avatar of the Watcher confronted great evil, a Prince of the Underplanes. Through steadfast perseverance Helm, Guardian of the Gods, fulfilled his sacred duty and bound the creature in the bowels of the temple that it might walk the world no more. Speak not the beast's name, ye Knights of the Vigil, but guard this place. Protect the wards which seal the Imprisoned One within, and remain ever watchful. Never betray your trust - such is the will of Helm. If you should fail and the Imprisoned One is set free, Lord Helm's wrath will be great and terrible.'_ That's all it says... just repeating and repeating..."

Nalia glanced at Greywulf, the sorcerer tracing the engravings with his eyes as the two continued downward. "Your runic script is very good- I recognized some of the symbols but others eluded me."

"The benefits of growing up in a center of learning." Greywulf chuckled softly, thinking back to his days in Candlekeep, under the watchful eye of the monks therein. "I learned more about old languages and runes than I ever wanted... but there are days when I'm glad Gorion didn't let me slip out of all my studies. It's been some time since we spoke, Lady Nalia. How has life treated you these past few months?"

"You choose a strange time to catch up, oh savior of my people." Nalia remarked dryly. " We could certainly have spoken whilst in your... how did you refer to it? A 'Pocket Plane'?"

"Something like that." Greywulf nodded. "It didn't seem to be the right time- although does it ever?"

"No... no, perhaps not." Nalia admitted. "But you asked a question, did you not? It has been... difficult at times, though my people are safe. I have done everything within my power to build my strength, enough to repel any further invaders or threats to those under my rule. I shall not let my people suffer as they did under the thumb of Firkraag ever again."

"Perhaps not, although I can't imagine that an invasion of orcs led by an ancient red dragon will happen every day." Greywulf countered. "Still, you seem to have gained a measure of self-confidence that was not there previously, if you don't mind me saying so."

"No... you have earned the right to speak to me on an equal level, I think." Nalia adjusted the hem of her robe as she continued their descent. "I am not as naïve as I once was- I know now what must be done to protect the commoners in my lands. I cannot rely on those with the blood of the divine to be awaiting my call when trouble strikes. I must be ready to deal harshly and swiftly with my enemies."

"That's the second time you've mentioned our aid as thought it were... something to be ashamed of." Greywulf frowned, glancing at their path, noting that a light was slowly becoming visible at the bottom, a landing that would lead to the first level of the Keep proper, if the directions of Brother Odren were to be trusted. "There is no weakness in accepting help in desperate times. I would not have called you and the others if I believed otherwise."

"Perhaps not for you... you are a single adventurer, responsible to no man except those who follow your lead on the battlefield." Nalia shook her head. "An entire province depends on my decisions, my ability to protect them. I cannot entrust their safety to anyone but myself. When we are done here, I shall have that power I seek."

Greywulf frowned as they finally touched bottom, an archway leading from the stairwell into a large hall, lit by floating globes of pale magic that floated in torch scones posted all around the massive room. Dust and cobwebs filled the air as the two warriors pushed slowly through the room- Greywulf and Nalia both conjured small floating lights to circle them, providing further illumination to the room.

The hall was a grand structure, supported by marble pillars that stretched from the base of the floor up and through the stone ceiling. There were smaller doorways leading to storerooms of some kind on each side of the path, though the most attention was most certainly given to the implements and the tools in the chamber before them. The doors that had not been torn down or the wood crumbled away showed some meager supplies within, sacks of long rotten grain and molded bread. Other side rooms looked to have jars and jars of oil, and torches stacked in abundance. Armor and weaponry lay in a final storeroom, thought it was covered in the tell-tale signs of age, with rust and dirt obscuring any hint of worth or use.

The main chamber was centered around a large rectangular structure, overshadowed on either side by twin statues of guardian knights, each with the Eye of Helm emblazoned in stone upon their massive breastplates. Their stone swords were raised high crossing as they extended to the ceiling, ready to strike the foes of the guardian god while the stone table between them was covered in gold coins and the blood of sacrifices long since offered. At the apex of the blades of the stone guardians, right where the swords crossed in midair before joining with the roof, a large bell hung, silent and unmoving. A long crack ran down one side of it, and it looked as though it were ready to fall at any time.

Golden bowls and implements of worship were strewn about, and the main altar in the center of the chamber looked as though it had stood untouched for centuries. No service had been made here, no supplication for Helm's aid in decades, if not longer. Though perhaps it spoke to how many had fallen in Helm's service... along the sides of the walls were sarcophagi, row upon row of them with a red cross and the Eye of Helm upon each lid. Were these the men who had given their spirits over to the Guardian God to protect this place as eternal vigil-keepers? Or men like Brother Odren and Brother Pol who had spent their days here, fulfilling a duty unending? If the Knights of the Vigil had been keeping watch within the Keep during their holy mission, laying to rest their brothers in arms... it had been some time since they claimed this level of the dungeon for their own dwelling.

They were too deep in now to continue small talk- Greywulf let the words he had been planning to say die on his tongue, but her manner, her words were... troubling. She was here not for Anomen's cause, or his own, but for power? That was not something he could fault completely, the treasures and magics that Watcher's Keep was renowned to hold were legendary, but the way she had talked of it- there was a hunger in her voice, a desire for power that he had heard in only a scant few mages in his time. Edwin, the Red Wizard of Thay. Semaj, one of Sarevok's lieutenants who fancied himself a lich-to-be in the service of the new Lord of Murder.

"By the gods... this place is massive. I can feel the divine energy from Helm's presence radiating through her even today, so far removed from when He constructed this place..." Anomen whispered as Nalia moved to his side, leaving Greywulf at the rear. The half-elf swallowed tightly, trying to push away the last comparison from his thoughts. Irenicus, the mad sorcerer of Suldenesselar.

"I recognize these implements- this was a Temple to Helm at one time." Anomen murmured, slowly slipping the pommel strap of his mace onto his belt ring, letting the weapon rest at his side for the moment. "I used many tools such as these in my time with the priesthood before joining the Order."

"Perhaps, but these are so old... how long has this place stood in vigilance over the beast who lurks below?" Reynald questioned. "I do not have a good feeling for this place, my friends. Whatever evil is lurking below, it must not be allowed to escape."

"Your devotion is commendable, though of little use at the moment." Nalia remarked, her eyes drifting back and forth among the different items that lay scattered around the room. "I can sense great magic located... there. In the center of the chamber. The first seal lies before us."

The group looked down, their eyes slowly opened to what truly lay beneath their feet. They scattered, taking in the true symbol engraved upon the floor over which they had so recently tread. Directly beneath the large bell hanging above them was a great Eye within an open gauntlet, emblazoned with fire and power. When they were silent, listening and reaching out with all their senses, the tingle of power and barrier magic over that portion of the floor was tangible, even to those unskilled in the arcane schools of magic. Nalia leaned over to touch the engraving- as her fingertips brushed the dusty stone, she frowned, murmuring arcane words- a light began to flash at her fingertips as Anomen's eyes widened- he lurched forward, shouting an alarm. "Don't-!"

Nalia screamed as energy illuminated her form, her hair standing on end as she was hurled backwards with the discharge of barrier magic set in place by Helm himself. Reynald hurled himself forward to catch her body, saving her from a rough collision with one of the standing pillars that encircled the room. Nalia groaned as the others rushed to the two of them, Reynald helping the noblewoman to a steady footing. "Are you all right, milady?"

"Ah... perhaps, yes. I think so." Nalia exhaled, shaking her head with a dazed smile. "It would seem that conventional magics are of little use against this ward- no wonder, if it was truly placed by Helm himself. Still, there is little doubt that the route we seek lies beneath us. The only question now is how to open that route."

"I am simply glad for your safety- I would never have forgiven myself should harm come to you down here in this forgotten dungeon." Reynald said with bowed head, clenching one gauntlet to his chest. "With your permission, I would act as your bodyguard whilst we descend this place."

Nalia paused a moment, then laughed, a light, lilting sound that bore no trace of ridicule, but of surprise and approval. "Well, I could hardly deny such a chivalrous gesture! I grant your request, Reynald de Chatillon. May your sword be ever sharp, your shield at the ready to defend the honor of the lands of De'Arnise."

"My, but somebody seems infatuated." Anomen leaned to Greywulf with a smile, whispering in an aside. "I wouldn't be surprised if Reynald came on this quest solely to impress Lady Nalia."

Greywulf watched, a brief chuckle escaping his lips, but truth be told, it wasn't Reynald he was concerned about. He coughed gently, drawing the attention of the others. "Well then... now that we know what kind of wards we're looking at... and where we need to be focusing our attention, I suggest we split up a bit. There must be some kind of sign in this old place of how to bypass the seal and keep moving."

"This Temple is massive... but you are right." Anomen admitted, flexing his shoulder for a moment, the clanking of metal on metal echoing through the dusty hall as his pauldron shifted. "If Lady Nalia and Reynald wish to search the storerooms, Greywulf and I shall examine the main foyer for clues. Perhaps there is some inscription, or a tome with written instruction to be deciphered."

"You truly think that the old Knights of the Vigil would simply write down the path to bypassing the safeguards they put in place?" Reynald asked dubiously, resting his tower shield against the ground with one gauntlet on top of it. "Seems like a fool's hope, though stranger things have happened, I admit."

"I think we've been fortunate so far..." Greywulf cut in, keeping his voice low as he glanced about the room. "No creatures. No monsters guarding this place. I expected more from the description of Odren and the others."

"Perhaps the presence of Helm's power is strong enough here in this Temple to repel the creatures below." Anomen suggested, but his brown eyes flashed as he saw what Greywulf was getting at. "Or perhaps the guardians of this level have yet to show themselves. Be on your guard, friends. We are never safe so long as we remain within Watcher's Keep."

The pair split, Nalia following closely behind Reynald as they began checking each room along the sides of the Temple hall, while Greywulf and Anomen began flipping through the different tomes and implements scattered about the main podium and tables surrounding the altar. Nalia stepped through the doorway into a new room, murmuring spells under her breath as she scanned the room, reaching out with one hand.

"My lady? Is something amiss?"

Nalia ignored Reynald's inquiry for a moment, before pausing and sighing, turning away from the room. "No, my knight. I was simply casting a spell to identify any sources of magic within the room. I am sure that whatever key exists to open our path, it will be of a magical nature. We could search every barrel and crate, or some divination can do the job for us."

"I see... then with your permission I shall guard you while you work your spellcraft." Reynald offered. "I would not wish to see you taken by surprise while you weave your magics."

"My, but you are the protective one, aren't you?" Nalia tossed behind her as they came to a new doorway, this room filled with a few knicknacks, most of them looking to be temple implements like candlesticks and oil to light their torches and pyres with. She began her spell again, seemingly oblivious to the former knight behind her, shifting uncomfortably.

He fidgeted a moment, watching her with shield at guard and sword ready... perhaps he was being too chivalrous? She was a noblewoman, after all, and deserved every courtesy that befitted a woman in her position... but he would be a fool to consider her like every other pretty face that could be found in the Government District of Athkatla each day. He tried to clear his mind and focus- he would be no use in a fight if consistently distracted by the beauty he had charged himself to protect.

Perhaps she sensed his mental debate within, but she sighed and turned back to him as they trudged to a new doorway after her second set of identify spells had faded away. "Come, we should keep searching. Perhaps my studies into this place excited my imagination too much, but I had envisioned much more locked away in this Keep. Rods and wands of spellcraft lost to legend, or perhaps some tomes with forgotten knowledge."

Reynald glanced in the room a few feet down the hall and waved at Nalia with a grin across his face. "Perhaps this might pique your curiosity?"

Nalia stepped into what looked like a miniature library, with shelves and shelves of books across each wall. In the center of the room was a small marble pedestal with a glass cover over a book lying within. Nalia started to dart forward, then stopped abruptly, shaking her head with a self-deprecating smile. "Foolish- I would be a fool not to check a place such as this for traps. Whatever lies within that case is surely valuable- perhaps the key to advancing further in this dungeon, or perhaps the magic I was hoping to find here. Regardless, we must get that book."

"As you say, milady." Reynald nodded, gazing through the room as if to spy a sudden trap or an enemy approaching at the discovery of something of value. Nalia knelt at the doorway, running her fingers up and down the sides of the frame, until she finally found a small indentation- she smiled with self-satisfaction, removing a small knife from her belt and prying at it until it popped open and revealed a mechanism inside. She peered at it for a moment, then rolled her eyes. "A dart trap... easily fixed. I'd expected something more complex."

She spoke a simple word of power and pointed a finger at the gears inside, letting a crackle of lightning shatter the parts within. Striding into the room without fear, Nalia examined the glass case and the marble pedestal- nothing she could see, but it had, admittedly, been some time since she'd seriously spent time practicing her skills at detecting traps and disarming them. The dart one at the door was an easy find, one that could be seen and fixed by any rogue with a few months of experience at the job. She'd focused on her magics for quite some time now... those were what she'd defend her home with, not simple thuggery and pickpocketing skill.

Which made it all the more strange, at least in her mind, that she was spending so much time trying to find these traps with the naked eye- magic would do the trick in half the time- a simple Detect Traps spell would reveal all but the most heavily cloaked snares, even if disarming the trap was a different story. Was it because she had an audience? Maybe- the former knight was charming, in his own way, and he obviously thought a great deal of her. Perhaps doing it by hand was a little way of showing off to him? Still, showing off would do little good if she missed something and got one of them killed...

Nalia stood up and glanced back at Reynald. "I cannot see any obvious snares, but I should not wish harm upon either of us. A quick spell..."

A white flash caused Reynald to raise his arm to shield his eyes for a moment- Nalia blinked once, twice, then gazed at the pedestal with obvious unhappiness. "Blasted dungeon... some kind of pressure plate underneath the book, I think. Running through the entire marble- I shan't be able to disturb it without setting the trap off."

"Then allow me to dispose of the trap for you." Reynald bowed, raising his sword and stepping up to the pedestal. "You might wish to step back, just in case this does not work as well as I hope..."

Nalia saw his intent and moved behind him as Reynald reared back, then swung at the middle of the pedestal with all his strength. To a normal sword, the marble would have proven far too strong and shattered the weapon on impact. With the combination of Reynald's not-inconsiderable strength and the enchanted steel of his word, the blade cut almost halfway through before becoming lodged inside.

Reynald yanked the sword out with a grunt and staggered back a few paces, preparing to swing again- "No need, my knight... I sense that your first strike cut through some of the mechanisms running through the pedestal. It should be safe to retrieve... thank you for your assistance."

Nalia removed the glass case, setting it down gently before reaching out and snatching the book for it's resting place- nothing. Reynald laughed once, exhaling with relief. "Ah... tis' good to know for certain we are safe. To tell the truth, I was not certain we were safe despite your assurances. Your magic provides clarity I could only wish for."

"Sometimes such clarity is not worth it," Nalia laughed, gesturing at the floor- underneath the dirt and dust, but uncovered by their footsteps since entering, small holes could be seen. Reynald swallowed heavily as he understood the kind of danger they had been facing a moment ago. "Do not fear- I would not have taken the book were I not sure of our safety."

"I believe you milady... but if you please, warn me when such traps lie in wait for us next time. I should think my nerves would last longer this way." Reynald smiled, wiping a small sheen of sweat from his brow, leaving a trail of dirt across his forehead.

Nalia laughed at the sight, then nodded with a shrug, raising a handkerchief to wipe the dirt away. He only reddened a bit as she pulled away, looking down with interest at the tome they'd procured. Reynald eventually took note as well, looking over her shoulder at the tome- there were several drawings and sketches of humanoid figures and the arcane mechanics of summoning words. He could read little of the writing, most of it done in a combination of elvish script and dwarven runes, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him. "If I might, milady, just what kind of book have you uncovered? Is this a way to descend further?"

Nalia smiled as she turned another page, her eyes finally resting upon what she'd been seeking since reading the first few lines of script... the control words to the summoning rituals. Given more time and some research material, she might even be able to augment the existing ritual... but no time now. Even so, this was a treasure she would keep by her side often- it would be quite a surprise for any rival or enemy to see a golem summoned to the material plane with just a few arcane words, after all. "No... no, my noble knight, but a valuable tool nonetheless. I am sure you will get a chance to see its power in action before we leave this place... for now we should continue searching."

Across the room in the main hall, Anomen glanced at Greywulf as the wizard picked up a pair of tongs, one half of them so rusted and broken that they fell apart as soon as he lifted it from it's long resting place. The squire arched an eyebrow as Greywulf grunted, setting it back down. "Time has not been kind to this place, it would seem."

"No doubt." Greywulf noted with a slight cough at the dust raised from his disturbing the tools resting on the table before him. "Still, I'll take this over the alternative. Demons or shades crawling out of every corner, looking to tear us apart..."

"I admit, this seems too simple." Anomen nodded, grunting with effort as he pulled a drawer open, releasing a billow of dust from the insides- he peered within, picking out a small glowing stone that he paused to examine. The sight of it grabbed Greywulf's attention for a moment, but he shrugged as soon as he recognize it. "I take it this will not help us proceed through the Keep?"

"Doubtful- looks like a bronze Ioun stone to me. Very useful for wizards and sorcerers... I never use them, myself." Greywulf tossed behind him as he walked to a different set of tomes that were stacked in the back corner of the room by a pedestal of Helmite armor. "Tried one for a while, I kept getting distracted by the bloody thing floating around my head- messed with my peripheral vision too much. Might as well hold onto it though- never hurts to have a few more magic trinkets."

"From the stories I have heard of Watcher's Keep, I am sure we will find much more than mere trinkets within this dungeon." Anomen paused, glancing at Nalia. "I... overheard some of what Lady Nalia spoke to you earlier. Her motivations for helping us in this venture are... not quite as selfless as I had previously imagined. I do not doubt that she will be of great use to us, but she has her own agenda, I am certain. Solaufein and Reynald had a few arguments over this very fact- they imagined me deaf to their debates, but I am not quite so dense as they imagine."

"Hnh." Greywulf chuckled, picking up one of the books and blowing the top layer of dust off before opening it, taking care to make certain the spine of the book did not collapse and collapse in his hands. "It's surprising how much people will say right in front of you when they think you a fool. I've used that little tidbit to my own advantage on occasion. Imoen certainly does, though I think she knows I know. Or maybe she doesn't. I'm never quite sure."

Anomen laughed, tucking the magical stone into his rucksack before resting one hand on the altar itself as he looked at Greywulf evenly. "Treasure the time you still have with your sister, Greywulf. I look at you and Imoen and remember my own dear Moira... I would venture most anything to be given more time with her. I had thought that bringing her murderer to justice would have brought me peace, but I find my heart still enraged whenever I think of Saerk."

"You made the right choice in letting him live." Greywulf affirmed, setting the book down after ensuring there was nothing overly intriguing within before moving to the altar itself, checking the sides and alcove within for anything of use. "You kept your vows and brought him to justice instead of taking revenge. Keldorn would have been proud."

Anomen closed his eyes and bowed his head, smiling lightly. "I like to think so."

"Hold- this may be something of import." Greywulf slid a thin book from the altar's side, opening it gently. Unlike the rest of the books and parchments lying about in the abandoned Temple, the paper was not yellow and crumbling, or showed any effects of aging. The symbol of Helm was emblazoned on the cover, with flowing script penned in red ink- or what they hoped was red ink- from top to bottom on each page inside.

"I'm not familiar with the language," Greywulf remarked with a frown, giving it to Anomen as the sorcerer leaned on his quarterstaff. "I was able to read the runes on the wall descending down to this level, but not these? Unusual..."

"Perhaps not." Anomen smiled, the corners of his mustache curling upward. "This is a code that priests of Helm sometimes pen their important rituals and documents in. I imagine there is another scroll to translate the writing located somewhere, but thankfully I have the training necessary to read this without such aid. It is an old version, but I can make it out easily enough, I think."

_"Place the Book and Candle upon the Altar! Celebrate the Holy Name, forever praised and renowned! Summon the Faithful, gather at the Altar! Witness His glory and triumph, ring the Sacred Bell! As it is written, the Ritual has begun. Let the Bell ring forth a second time, in honor of the Holy One as His name shall forever ring across the lands. Let the Ritual Candle be lit, in honor of the Holy One as His name shall forever be a glowing beacon to the faithful while the Sacred Book shall be placed open upon the Altar."_

_"Let the consecrated wisdom of the Holy Word bless the Faithful, let the Bell ring forth a final time in joyous celebration of His name, praised and triumphant to Eternity's end, the Ritual is complete."_ Anomen had scarcely finished speaking before the entire temple began rumbling, long cracks forming along the sides of the walls and along the ceiling and floors. The squire nearly toppled over but caught himself at the last moment- Greywulf crouched and flipped his quarterstaff up to guard position before the rumbling stopped, leaving nothing but the sound of trickling rock and dust echoing through the chamber.

"You have found something, I trust? Surely that was not normal..." Reynald called out to Anomen as he and Nalia hurried back to the altar, about halfway across the room when another boom echoed through the room, the sound of rock splitting violently. On all sides of the room, the stone coffins that lined the walls were cracking open and bluish mist was emerging from others while bones began clattering within others.

Greywulf cursed as the others came and positioned themselves in a semi-circle, watching as the guardians of the Keep finally made themselves known. There wasn't much cover in the room aside from a few tables, the stone pillars supporting the ceiling, and the altar itself. The altar... Greywulf's eyes darted to the tome in Anomen's gauntlet- the book. Up near the ceiling, hanging from a beam between the swords crossed that joined the stone roof... a giant bell. No sign of any candle... the half-elf cursed a second time as the spirits of Helm's servants and skeletons bearing swords and shields with Helm's symbol finally formed and began advancing on their group. He was not looking forward to mounting a search for a candle while under attack by the spirits of the dead...

"Ah... I do not wish to dictate to you how you make use of your god-powers, but perhaps now might be a good time to see if your powers still work within these walls-?" Anomen voiced, hurriedly stuffing the book in his pack before hefting his shield and mace.

Greywulf squeezed his eyes shut, pictured the portals of magic opening that would sweep him and the others into the Pocket Plane of Bhaal's dimension... and with a fizzle of magic, his heart sunk. "Damn. I hate this place already..."

X X X X X X

The rush of magic was deafening, but the sound dissipated quickly as the five adventurers materialized into their own plane of existence once more. Jaheira shook off the lingering tickle of magic that always clung to her skin whenever she experienced the magic of Greywulf's Pocket Plane- she'd gotten used to it at this point, but it was never fun.

"Ah... Boo is much happier to be back with our feet on solid ground! Blue sky and solid earth beneath our boots!" Minsc exclaimed, raising his massive arms as he grinned, slapping the back of his new druid companion, Cernd nodding with a contented smile.

"I cannot help but agree with you- the bounty of nature has no equal among mortals. Free to all, if only they possess the eyes to see." Cernd inhaled sharply, letting the sun warm his bare chest. They were standing on what looked like the road into a small settlement- the village looked to be composed of mud-brick houses with straw and thatch roofs, with a few made of stone and wood.

"You surfacers sicken me at times." Viconia rolled her eyes, glancing around them with an unusual look of worry upon her features. "We should leave this place- the people here in this town were not... hospitable, when I was summoned here by Greywulf."

"You sound concerned, Viconia." Jaheira remarked, letting only a hint of sarcasm into her tone. "Still having trouble making your way without the rest of us to watch your back, hmm? I cannot imagine why- your demeanor is normally so engaging."

Viconia's eyes blazed as she spat in Jaheira's general direction before beginning to raise her hood- "She returns! The wicked drow returns to our midst!"

The group whirled to spy a screaming man pointing at them from the doorstep of one of the huts- he flew into his house and came back out again with a pitchfork, brandishing the weapon at the group as other villagers began emerging from their own homes. Apparently the blaze of magic and energy that had brought them back was not so subtle as to keep them unnoticed."She shall not escape justice again- capture the wicked elf and bring her back to the stake! if ropes were not enough to secure her then we shall nail her to her bonds this time!"

"These people were going to burn you at the stake when Greywulf teleported you to us?" Aerie asked in shock, backing away from the rapidly growing mob. "What did you do to them?"

"I did nothing, darthirii!" Viconia shouted, whirling back to the mob that was approaching. "You rivvin are mad! I did nothing to any of you other than seek sanctuary for a few nights! I sought only to make my way across the surface world without molestation- why do you persecute me so?"

"You are a creature of evil and darkness, my brethren! A creature of foulness and deceit, bent only on our destruction! You shall be burned and purified in the Maid of Misrule's power!"

"Hold, friends..." Cernd stepped in front of the group, raising his hands as he stared the mob down with surprising calm. "To condemn an entire breed for the sins of some is no way to live your life. This woman is drow, but is no enemy of the surface world. If you judge yourselves to be more than mere beasts of the field, then consider your actions and those who are affected by them."

His words had little effect- one young man stepped from the crowd, hurling a rock that bounced off of Cernd's chest, leaving a nasty red welt. "You would dare defend her kind? Her dark and fiendish kin rose up from their underground homes and killed my father and my brother! They are all evil, I tell you! All of them!"

"Do you dare stand with the dark elf whore and defend her from Beshaba's judgment?" the first man who had incited the mob screeched, thrusting his pitchfork at them as he edged forward. "Allies of the foul creature! Allies of the drow!"

"Stand down your weapons!" Jaheira commanded, her voice and presence enough to give them pause, but even the sight of her leveled spear did not dissuade them completely. "We will defend Viconia, by bloodshed if necessary. There is no need for any of you to lose your lives in this foolishness."

As the mob continued to press forward, Cernd grunted, mentally preparing himself as he stepped back in line with Jaheira. "Believe it or not, this is not the first time I have had to face a mob intent on burning me at the stake.."

Jaheira glanced at the other druid, snorting with disbelief as she deflected an incoming arrow with the shaft of her spear. "And how did you resolve that situation?"

A hurtling bottle of flaming liquid soared over their heads, shattering behind them and cutting their slow retreat off. Cernd raised a forearm in defense, looking back to Jaheira as the druid gritted her teeth in frustration. "We retreated."

"Fantastic."


	30. Part 2: Inexorable March

Another set of glass bottles hurtled through the air towards the small group of adventurers, shattering scant inches from their heads on the magical shielding that Aerie had conjured above them, ripples of blue energy flowing across the barrier with each impact. The Avariel mage frowned with each shot- not that maintaining the shield was difficult, small bottles being thrown were somewhat easier to repel than bullets fired out of a sling or dozens of orc arrows raining on them, but the mob was beginning to advance, and keeping out dozens of man-sized bodies could prove... problematic.

Jaheira flinched as another bottle shattered above her, the jagged pieces of glass shimmering briefly in the sunlight before falling harmlessly to the ground. Her spear was raised and at guard position, although the sight of it did not seem to be doing much in terms of intimidation. The mob did not seem to slow or balk at the prospect of her weapon, or in fact, anything the small group was doing. That made them all one of two things- extremely stupid, or extremely fanatical. And while she had no qualms about defending herself with lethal force, slaughtering an entire village, even one full of bigots, wasn't an idea she particularly relished.

Minsc stepped forward with a roar, partially phasing out of the shield that Aerie was maintaining- he brandished the two axes Stonefire and Frostreaver, cutting a thrown rock in half with his extraordinary reflexes and strength. "Do not tempt the wrath of Minsc and Boo! We will not fight you lightly, but no harm shall come to my witch while Minsc yet stands!"

"Death to the drow! Death to the drow and her demon defenders!" an old woman screeched, raising bony fingers before croaking out ancient incantations, a fireball forming at her hand as she hurled it at Minsc- the ranger was taken totally by surprise, nearly immolated by the sudden outburst of magic if Cernd had not grabbed Minsc's waist and yanked him behind the shield Aerie was maintaining. The blue haze rippled under the sudden impact, Aerie stumbling back and dropping to one knee with the surprise attack.

"Still inclined to let these fools live, jaluk?" Viconia spat at Minsc, raising her mace with venom in her eyes. "If they wish to throw their lives away, I shall feel no guilt over ending them."

"There may yet be a way to escape this place without unnecessary bloodshed." Cernd turned his back to the mob, looking at the conflagration of flame that blocked their escape route. "Allow me a few moments and we shall take flight from this place."

The druid raised his arms, chanting loudly as his deep voice bellowed and reverberated through the air- the sun began to fade behind darkening clouds and lightning flashed across the sky, nearly blinding them with the sudden flash across the newly blackened skies. Small drops of rain began showering upon them as Cernd's spell took hold, but the realization of what the adventurers were attempting to do brought the full fury of the mob upon them.

Aerie tried raising her hand to sustain her spell as they pounded and threw their bodies against the barrier spell she was holding, but the strain was too much- it shattered and threw Aerie back to the ground, the mob finally breaking through and swarming them. Minsc's eyes narrowed as Jaheira's brow furrowed- Viconia shouted a battle cry and swung her mace, the head of it slamming into the side of a man that had thrust himself forward, sending gore and blood splattering across the ground.

Battle was joined- a heady rush of reluctance and violence, the thrill and disgust of a battle where one side is completely superior to the other, a slaughter by any standards, and yet those being demolished refuse to yield or run from the battle. Minsc's axes fell again and again, cleaving open bodies and cutting limbs from their hosts as rain and blood soaked the ground beneath them. Cernd's shouts were drowned out by the thunder of battle and the din of metal striking wood and flesh, Jaheira's spear impaling those who got too close while Viconia waded into the fray, actively striking down those who had hunted and captured her previously. Her blows had a hatred behind them that she did not suppress, bridle or hold back.

Aerie's eyes fluttered- why did everything smell like copper? She dug her hands into the ground to push herself upward, fingers digging into the loam and mud below her- the sight of crimson pooling below her drew a gasp from the Avariel as she pushed herself to her feet, face dirtied from her collapse after the shield she'd conjured had broken. She staggered to an upright position, whirling in shock and horror at the sight of her friends slaughtering the unthinking mobs before them- "Stop!"

Aerie had shouted it before she even knew what was happening, magic incantations spilling from her lips as a Hold Spell erupted in the middle of the mob, overcoming the magical defenses of so many, but others continued to fight, trying to push through their companions to reach them. Aerie shook her head, centering herself and reaching deep inside- she drew a fiery circle in the air with her fingers, releasing a Symbol Stun into the midst of them, finally overcoming the remainder of the mob as she collapsed to her knees again, trying to catch her breath as the overwhelming din and rancor around them died away, fading to a stillness that was far too quiet.

"What... what have we done?" Aerie whispered, managing to look up as rain continued to pour down upon them, taking in the sight of so many paralyzed men and women, the bodies of their fellow villagers lying all around them in their own blood.

"We defended ourselves, weakling." Viconia growled, throwing her hood up as she gestured at one of the frozen individuals with her mace. "These foolish rivvin would have killed us all and you weep for them? You are as weak as I imagined."

"Our way of escape is opened to us." Cernd intoned, his back still to the carnage, as he gazed upon the smoldering embers that took the place of the wall of flame that had blocked them earlier. He did not move to face any of them, though he knew- he had to know- the sight that would greet him if he turned around. "We should leave- our true enemies await. Enough blood has tainted the land this day. Amkethran awaits."

X

An ethereal sword sung through the air, leaving mist and unholy light in the air behind it as it struck the stone stair that Greywulf had been standing on a brief moment. The half-elf sorcerer scrambled backwards, dodging one attack after another, the wraiths and specters of Helm's guardians chasing him back toward the Temple podium where they had discovered the book that had summoned these creatures for the first time. Another attack, this one cutting into his grey cloak and leaving a long gash down the center of it. Greywulf spun in place as he continued backpedaling, outstretching both hands as he spoke the words of his weapons.

Blue arcs of lightning brushed from his hands and leapt to the skeletal warriors that trudged towards him, the tendrils of power playing over bone and rusted metal for a time, jumping back and forth across those bony bodies, puncturing and splintering bits and pieces of their form until two of his pursuers collapsed to the ground, unable to sustain their forms with such an outburst of energy.

Across the podium, Nalia and Reynald stood side by side, Anomen behind them with his hands clasped, chanting words of supplication to Helm as he drew on the Holy Might that his god supplied him with, commanding the undead with word and faith alone. In any other occasion or place, the power that Anomen, priest of Helm possessed to turn the undead would have been sufficient to drive their foes back, make the powerful ones flee from his presence whilst the lesser fiends were obliterated completely. It should have worked.

"It's not working!" Reynald cried out, hefting his tower shield to block a hail of blows from a large skeleton warrior, the rusted blade ringing as it ricocheted off, leaving its wielder open to a swift decapitation from the blade Reynald carried. The ex-paladin grunted with effort as he swing his shield around to block another attack, two arrows fired from specters floating in the back, their ghostly projectiles dissipating as they struck against Reynald's defenses.

"These ghosts are the warriors and protectors of Helm- did you truly think that trying to drive them back with the power that sustains them would be enough?" Nalia tossed behind her, taking a step forward as she thrust one hand out, small meteors erupting from the void and circling her like a whirlwind of fiery rock and stone. They paused a moment and then leapt from their orbit, crushing bone and tearing through ghostly flesh as they struck each target Nalia had designated for death. "If we cannot strike down a few specters, then we shall stand no chance against whatever horrors lie beneath this tomb. Take up your weapon, Anomen. These ghosts will respond to force and force alone!"

The squire's eyes blazed open, teeth grit together as he surveyed the array of forces charging them, moving to overrun their position and bring an end to the invasion of Watcher's Keep- Anomen hefted his mace with one hand, bringing it around in a mighty backswing that crushed the rib cage of a skeleton before pushing ahead with his family shield, sending his foe tumbling back down the stairs of the podium.

"You see?" Nalia laughed, magic missiles swarming from her hands to explode against a ghostly wraith that screamed from the far end of the Temple ruin. "Nothing to worry-hugk!"

Two wraiths had risen from the ground behind Nalia, both striking at the same time, their ethereal hands piercing her chest and leaving behind the cold numbness of undead flesh inside.

Nalia sunk to her knees, trying to avoid lapsing into unconsciousness at the ethereal strike- Reynald rushed the two spirits with fury in his eyes, slashing at one of the two, his blade slowing as he swept into the ectoplasm that held their spirits together. "Back to your grave, guardians! Face your final deaths in this sanctified place!"

"This is getting us nowhere." Greywulf shouted, shouting a trigger to the Spell sequencer he'd prepared- Stoneskins and a Haste spell activated around the sorcerer, giving him the unnatural speed to dodge one, two, three sword attacks- two more arrows crashed into his body, dropping the magical stone that encased him. "You read the tome, Anomen! What does it mean?"

"It is- it is a ritual!" Anomen shouted back to Greywulf, holding his shield up to deflect the increasing flurry of blows that was being directed their way. "A book, a candle, and the bell above! They are all connected- simply follow the instruction laid out to us and the way should open for us!"

"*Should* open? I should like to know whether we are risking our life on a gamble or a promise!" Reynald tossed back as he knelt by Nalia's body, shielding both of them with his massive tower shield, as he tried to raise the woman to her feet.

"There's the book-" Greywulf grunted as he spun, both hands erupting with flame as his Burning Hands spell cleared a small circle around him, his Haste spell turning the spin into a miniature whirlwind of flame, "And with any luck, that giant bell hanging up there is the one we're looking for. Any sign of a candle around this place?"

"In a place as large as this? We might as well search for a needle in a haystack." Anomen growled as he parried a sword thrust and shunted into the ground with his mace, rushing forward with his shoulder to knock his opponent over.

"Ughhh..." Nalia moaned, clutching her chest as she regained some semblance of control. She grasped at the tome that she and Reynald had recovered from one of the rooms, letting the time-worn pages flip open until they stopped on a page with arcane drawings of a massive humanoid, covered in runes of control.

Nalia began whispering the summoning words, drawing strength from the book and using the spell as an outlet for her will, her power- the room echoed as a portal opened within the center of the room, a flesh golem stepping out with glowing red eyes and runes covering the construct, tying it's will to that of its summoner. Nalia allowed herself a smile as she saw the construct step into being- she clenched one fist, and whispered a single command. "Kill."

Two skeletons flew across the room and shattered against the wall, sent flying by the power behind the flesh golem's fists. The massive presence of the golem in the midst of the room drew the attention of the undead horde, giving the four adventurers a moment of respite as their attackers shifted their strikes to this new threat, cutting chunks of flesh from its massive body. "Even if we do find the candle, this ritual will take much longer to complete than the guardians will allow us." Anomen grunted, trying to adjust his shoulder pauldron, knocked almost completely out of place from a blow he had taken by a rusted flail.

"Clairvoyance should help locate this particular needle..." Nalia murmured, quickly casting the required spell as her eyes began to glow white- the others took a moment to encircle the vulnerable mage, watching as the flesh golem began to falter under the assault of the undead guardians, even as other undead spirits rose from the coffins and crypts surrounding the room's edges.

"There." Nalia shook off the after-effects of the spell, pointing towards a side storage room on the far end of the Temple hall, back where they had first descended to the main foyer. "It's in a table over there- with a Haste spell one of us can probably get over there to retrieve it-"

"But getting back and fulfilling the ritual requirements might be a bit more difficult. I think our time has just about run out..." Anomen gestured at the mound of undead that had finished tearing apart the flesh golem's body. The glowing light beneath the eyes of the golem began to fade, till it died out completely. "That's it then- lend me your magics, Lady Nalia. I shall go to retrieve the candle- stand firm and tall until I return. May Helm protect us all."

With those words, the cleric was gone from sight in brief moments, his enhanced speed guiding him through the winding paths of enemies, slipping past them and avoiding their attacks with ease. Behind him, the mass of undead began pushing forward, the three defenders finding themselves increasingly out of room to maneuver- Greywulf grabbed the waterskin from his belt and yanked the cork from it, letting water gush from its innards. He hurled it before the undead horde, then shouted toward Nalia, "A Ray of Frost, now!"

She did not hesitate- the water froze on impact with the magic spell, even as Greywulf began repeating the words to another cantrip, summoning bucket after bucket of water, growing the pile of ice that was forming from freezing ray and magical liquid. Within several moments, a large ice barrier blocked off half the podium as Reynald pushed back at the other half, trying to keep their foes out while Nalia and Greywulf encircled their position with the elemental wall.

The protection would not last forever- claws and swords cut large chunks of ice from the wall even as the two mages attempted to rebuild it. A delaying tactic at best, until Anomen arrived with the candle they needed for the ritual. Even then, trying to complete a ritual in the small amount of time left to them before the guardians of Helm overwhelmed their position? It seemed unlikely- they needed more time. More time than they had... an idea formed in Greywulf's mind, although it would be an expenditure of power for him that he had not attempted as of yet. The spell was still new to him, and he had not yet mastered it's functionality... but if he could bend it to his will, just this once, they would have all the time they needed. Or at least, all the time he needed.

Another rush of wind blew from behind them as Anomen's form blurred into view, the squire's rapid footfalls only now echoing past them. He bore several burn marks across his breastplate and one nasty scorch upon his face, but he held in his gauntleted hands a green wax candle, the eye of Helm emblazoned upon it's side. "I bring good tidings, though it would seem our situation has not improved much. They are an endless tide- so long as we intrude on this sacred ground, Helm's power grants them eternal life, raising them again and again no matter how many times we banish their spirits."

"Then we should finish this ritual, and quickly." Greywulf said, closing his eyes as he began chanting. "With any luck, by the time you all realize what I've done here... the ritual will be over."

The protests and confused questions of the others died away in his hearing as Greywulf internalized all his senses, focusing every amount of will he possessed into this one spell- he had heard the tales of those trying to attempt this kind of magic before they were ready. Mages and wizards aging years and years in mere seconds. Some freezing in place, living out their entire lives in slow motion as they were forced to watch the world around them change and shift while they stood watch, simply trying to utter a single word before their loved ones passed from the earth. Others still were sucked deep into the heart of the time-space plane, re-emerging years or decades from the fateful day they attempted a Time Stop spell without the proper training.

His heart slowed, his muscles tensed, and he began the incantations- the world around him felt like sand falling from his fingertips, a shifting mass of slowly moving particles that were there but not quite real, a whisper in the dark that he wasn't quite certain he could hear or touch- and as he spoke the last words, letting all the energy he'd been saving within burst into reality- he opened his eyes, witnessing a gray, washed out world that had ceased all motion. His heart felt as though it would burst from the effort, but his reward was here- several minutes of uninterrupted time where he could act so quickly that time would be still for those around him- the minutes of time he experienced would seem to take place in the span of six simple seconds for the others. And with a Haste spell upon himself... he felt his limbs re-energize, and his body flood with energy. The ritual would be completed... just a little faster than it had probably been intended to be.

X

"Would somebody please explain to me what the hell happened here?" General Jamis Tombelthen shouted, an uncharacteristic outburst for the normally dignified leader of men. He prided himself upon keeping his cool under fire, driving his men forward with a steady hand and a cool head. He'd fought the frost giants when they'd invaded from up north, and orc invasions by the dozen. But there was little for him to grasp onto here, little for him to pull back down to earth and keep the war-fire inside him quelled until the proper time of battle. An entire squadron of his best men, assigned to watch the oasis in case the Bhaalspawn returned... and every one of them was either incapacitated or so out of it that they couldn't get their stories straight.

"Sir... I-uh..." the lieutenant he had left in command stood before him, wringing his hands while rubbing his head, as though he was unsure which hurt worse, the sting of whatever blow that the Bhaalspawn had handed him, or the sting of having to report his failure to a superior. "The Bhaalspawn returned, as you anticipated they might."

"All of them?" Jamis questioned, glaring heavily at the man, daring him to lie or leave out any details of their defeat.

"No, sir. Only the Bhaalspawn and the drow- the other were not with them when they reappeared. I had thought it strange, but our primary targets were there- we dared not let them leave without a confrontation."

"And what exactly happened? I see no blood on the sand, no evidence of a skirmish." Jamis growled, gesturing toward the remains of the encampment. "None of the men I left are dead, and half the men are still incoherent. Those I have questioned already cannot give me a straight answer- whether the Bhaalspawn left to the north, south, east, or west, nobody has an answer that matches the man beside him. And the visions they speak of! Were all your men so overwhelmed by fear that they could not think straight?"

"I... I cannot remember, sir. We confronted the Bhaalspawn when they arrived, I gave the order to attack... then nothing. Just flashes of monsters that make no sense- visions of our foes that seemed larger than life, as though they slaughtered everyone with a glance... but we all yet live, do we not? I am... I am sorry, sir." the lieutenant swallowed, his sandy brown hair sticking to his face with sweat- not simply from the noonday sun but the heat of the General's interrogation.

Jamis' eyes narrowed for a moment- he turned on his heel, gesturing for the man to follow. "We will have you examined by the arch-mages who accompany my division of soldiers. They will try to divine what sort of sorcery has overcome you and your men. After they have finished, consider yourself relieved of command."

The sigh could barely be heard issuing from his subordinate's mouth, but Jamis took note nonetheless. Was it a sigh of disappointment, knowing he had failed his command? Or, as Jamis feared, a sigh of relief, at not having to face the monsters he had seen in his visions? Either way, the General needed a new angle, a new lead to pursue. The Bhaalspawn were on the move, all of them- despite his orders to strike against the wards of Gorion, he knew there existed others as well, those with an overt lust for power, who would not deny the chance to spill the blood of innocents for their common goals. Imoen and Greywulf... would they succumb to that same temptation? It mattered little, he supposed. The royalty of Tethyr had marked them for execution, and he was honor bound to carry out that sentence.

All that remained was finding them- and then keeping them there. He had hoped that perhaps Melissan might have been able to lend a hand in finding a way to nullify the powers that Greywulf had demonstrated- teleportation at will, was it? Surely there was some kind of ritual, some kind of magic that could hold Greywulf to the earthly plane where mortals like himself would stand a chance in battle.

But what if there wasn't? What if all he could muster was a chase across the Realms, never getting too close before having to resume the whole process again and again? The thought was... disheartening, to say the least. No. There had to be a better way. The General glanced back toward his former lieutenant as the archmages worked their magics, digging through his memory to see what had truly transpired here. It would take time- time he could only hope would give him the inspiration to out-think the last of the god-children.

The last of the god-children, was it? No... there were at least two more he knew of. Rumors of a Bhaalspawn dragon to the south, hidden away in craggy mountains and the caverns within. And a shadowy figure in the forest to the east, with armies of dark warriors at her command. That... that might be it. The Bhaalspawn, regardless of intent or guidance, would always, always be drawn to fight one another. Their destiny was to clash until only one remained- Sarevok had taught them that from the beginning. That was their target... one of the remaining Bhaalspawn- and heaven help him, Jamis could only wonder if he stayed out of their war, he might save the lives of his men and others in Faerun- let them fight their own war and mop up the remaining forces with his own?

It would be a good decision, a tactical decision that made sense... but he knew where the other two Bhaalspawn were hiding, or at least their general vicinity. And if he could ambush Greywulf, take him by surprise- no chance for the sorcerer to use his escape route... that might be their only chance. Too good an opportunity to pass up. He nodded, settling the plan in his own mind. To stretch a net so wide, not truly knowing where or when Imoen and Greywulf would show up, might pull his forces thin, but standing around here would accomplish nothing. He was a man of action and preferred to strike his enemy first. He could only hope the same was true of the wards of Gorion.

X

"You are mad, Balthazar. For all your wisdom you lack the most basic sense of tactics and planning." Abazigal sneered, a half growl meant to intimidate, though if Balthazar felt his own confidence falter in the face of this half-dragon, he did not show it. "My beasts could sweep the country, darken the skies and find these last remaining insects with ease. And you say we should remain cooped in my mountain lair? For what possible reason would I agree to that?"

Balthazar's face remained as stoic as ever, although he felt his own humor rise within, the monk doing his utmost to keep a smirk from his face. The remainder of the Five, Abazigal, Sendai and Balthazar, were in chaos- or at least, that was the way it appeared. The death of both Illasera and then the invulnerable Yaga-Shura had given all of them a reason to panic, although none would admit they felt as such.

The half-dragon began another tirade, boasting about his own forces and the strength behind them- truth be told, Balthazar was only half listening. He already knew the taunts, the threats, the feral rage that would issue from this draconic fool. He'd heard it before- in truth, this was going to be much simpler than he had originally intended. Destroying Yaga-Shura would have been the most difficult part of dismantling the Five, but Greywulf and Imoen had taken care of that already. Now? A hot-tempered half-dragon and a venomous drow assassin? They would be easy to manipulate. Easy to twist and turn to his own advantage- "Enough, Abazigal. You would not be so foolish to disregard what you know to be true. Sending your forces out to scour the lands clean will result in every army in the land converging upon us. Tethyr has already sent their forces out to fight- would you risk the armies of the Gate joining as well? Hold your ground, save your strength. Would any man or woman dare to enter your throne with the forces at your command?"

Abazigal growled, teeth bared as his blue eyes flashed with rage... but the monk's words calmed the wrath within. He leaned close, so close that only his eye was visible through the portal Balthazar had summoned. "I will not long suffer your demands and so-called 'wisdom'. The time of ascension is almost upon us, and I will not be left behind. Hide in your monastery- should I discover that you intend to betray me, I will rain such destruction upon your fortress, there will be nowhere to hide."

The monk finally allowed himself to smile, the edges of his mouth curling just slightly upward at the not-so-subtle threat. "I will keep your words in mind, mighty Abazigal." Balthazar intoned, before sliding one leather toed boot through the dust circle that he had drawn on the ground as part of the ritual- as the circle was broken, the magical portal faded from view, removing the two 'allies' from one another's sight.

Balthazar turned on his heel, stalking out of his meditation chambers and back toward the main throne room of sorts he used to judge the matters of law that the people of this city brought to him. Or, at least, the matters they used to bring to him. It had been some time since his monastic order had been seen as the protectors they truly were. Before he had been truly aware of the dangers, before he had known just how much his heritage would cost him as well as those around him, Balthazar had brought peace and order to a wind-swept village. The town of Amkethran had been a lawless place, where every man made his own rules, and might made right.

His arrival, a simple stop on his pilgrimage of self-discovery for a few supplies, some water to keep him alive, had wrought such a change… not only for the city itself, but for Balthazar the man. Here was something he could do with his taint, with the wickedness inside him. He could turn the power of Bhaal on those would prey on the innocent, on those who would abuse the weak. Here was a purpose in life, a reason to exist and an outlet for all the rage and aggression that he… that all the Bhaalspawn, had to feel. The memory of his arrival, of his first attempt at driving out the law-breakers was as fresh in his mind today as it had been those several years back…

_A scream echoed through the dust-ridden wind as the large armored man staggered backwards, clutching at his face, blood streaming from in-between his fingers. The bone and flesh of his nose, once protruding rather crookedly, to be fair, was all a jumbled pulp now, courtesy of a lightning quick palm strike that the young monk had landed before his opponent could even think of dodging aside._

_ "You'll pay for that, runt!" another of the bandits that plagued this small town growled, leveling a sword at Balthazar with a gap-toothed grimace. "Slice this maggot to pieces!"_

_ Balthazar lowered his stance, centering his weight and preparing his mind and body for the oncoming attack- it was a simple meditative state, one he had practiced daily since he chose to become a monk, hoping to find a way to quell the darkness he carried within. For a long time, it had simply been used to ease his transition from earthly concerns and states of mind to that of a higher one, but here, now it was a way to see his attackers, to feel their movements and their strikes before they even made them. Time flowed like sand around him as he let his eyes flutter closed, choosing to rely on the extra senses he'd honed, refusing to be blinded by sight._

_ Seven uninjured men were surrounding him, three brandishing swords, two with bows and arrows, and another two with battleaxes. All of them were wearing armor, though only the ones with the axes wore anything past studded leather. Several civilians were huddled in the doorways of their mud-brick homes, terrified that they were about to witness one more casualty of the brutes that had taken their town for their own private playground. That… would not be the case._

_ The one at his front, left side- he was leaning forward, shifting his weight to swing the blade down- there. And behind him as well- a battle axe aimed to cleave his torso in two. Balthazar's body became a whirlwind, letting years of training speak for themselves, expressing words in actions, actions filtered through the taint of Bhaal, souring their notes and making them violent. He twisted violently in midair, letting the feel of air trailing behind the weapons that were aimed at him sweep above and below his torso as he leapt, twisting his body sideways. He snapped both legs up to push off the body of the man coming from behind- the momentum he had gained was considerable, allowing him to leap off fists first, impacting against his front opponent's chest. _

_ A loud crack like a tree trunk snapping echoed through the air- a scream followed close behind, but Balthazar barely heard it. He did, however, feel a sternum cracking beneath his knuckles, splinters of bone hurtling backward and embedding in flesh and muscle and organs. The feel and the knowledge of what he'd just done so effortlessly brought him equal parts disgust and elation- no time. No time to swell on the clashing of his blood's desire and the teachings of his monastic order. The body needed to separate from the mind- he couldn't afford to feel. Only action mattered. _

_ He came up off the dying man's body in a spring, vaulting back toward another man, the mercenary only now bringing his blade to bear, attempting to swat the monk from the sky. The brigand might as well have been standing still, for all the good it would do him. Balthazar's left hand flattened to a palm, immediately shunting the sword aside as he landed while his other hand struck the man's throat, collapsing the windpipe and leaving him to collapse on the ground, asphyxiating quickly._

_ Two dead, two injured- now came the arrows. Both archers had nocked their missiles and were about to loose them- he took a half-breath, exhaled, and waited. It only took a moment, but there it was. Two arrows coming, one aimed for his head, one for his torso. Both were good shots, each one quite capable of killing him were he to allow it. They would indeed find a target, though. Just not him. Balthazar reached deep inside, finding the ki inside him, channeling it to his hands and reflexes- Balthazar spun in place, both hands darting out to grasp the arrows mid-air, letting his momentum take his entire body in a 180 degree turn before releasing the arrows- both shot from his grasp as time seemed to resume, lodging themselves in the bodies of those archers who had fired them._

_ The remaining brigands stumbled backwards in awe and dread, their minds slowly comprehending that they had challenged something far greater than themselves. Wiser men would have taken the opportunity to retreat, hoping that their humiliation would be enough and that they might escape with their lives intact. They did not prove to be wiser men. A brief moment to regain their nerve, and then the four remaining bandits charged, weapons already in motion. _

_ Balthazar could barely comprehend what was happening- his reactions to the attacks were all reflex, no mental commands involved. A blade came toward his neck, but was deflected by a palm strike straight upwards that hit the flat of the blade, sending it over the top of his head. He balanced on one foot and kicked straight at the man who had attacked first, sending him flying off balance, into a __bramble of cacti, even as his newly horizontal posture dodged the swing of another sword. He whipped his form around to land back on his feet, bringing a fist in a wide loop that slammed the second attacker into the ground with a crack, the impact of fist to neck shattering three of the bandit's vertebrae. The two remaining men, both wielding battleaxes bore down on Balthazar, axes reared back._

_ Balthazar's palms began quivering, channeling all the energy he kept within- both arms shot like pistons from his side- only now, with his palms sticking through the metal armored chests of his attackers, blood coating his arms up to his elbows, did Balthazar's mind return, conscious thought taking over once again. He pulled both hands from his attackers, their bodies collapsing to the ground as the monk exhaled sharply, struggling with the emotions that were flooding his body. _

_ Six men were dead, one more was lying in a heap of broken cacti, covered in needles that would hurt like hell as soon as he regained consciousness. The last man was lying on the ground in a ball, the whistle of air trying to flow through the shattered cartilage of his nose giving a sickening backdrop to the silence. Balthazar glanced at the crowds who had gathered, watching this stranger fight off the self-proclaimed warlords of the town. Why hadn't they run yet? Surely he was as great a monster as any of the men he had killed. He needed to leave. Needed to get out of this place before he brought more trouble on them-_

_ "Thank you, sir." a young woman approached, bowing low with gratitude... and fear... in her eyes. "Please, what can we do to repay you?"_

_ "I... did not do this for any kind of reward." Balthazar replied slowly, blinking sweat from his eyes, just now feeling how hot the sun bearing down on them truly was. "These men deserved justice. I gave it to them. I should leave soon..."_

_ "But what will happen to us when their friends return? Please, can you stay and help us?"_

_ Balthazar's eyes narrowed- more of them, on their way. His actions would bring woe to the villagers, should he leave now. Was there a place for him here, at least for a time? He looked down at his blood stained hands..._

"Master?"

One of Balthazar's monk acolytes stood before his throne, head bowed as he waited for his master to reply. He sighed, clearing his head and nodded in approval. "Speak."

"Our spies combing the roads have found some of the companions of Greywulf and Imoen, heading through the northern deserts down toward Amkethran." the monk spoke, frowning as he looked up at his master. "Yet... there are no signs of the Bhaalspawn themselves."

Balthazar's eyes narrowed- he had been worried that the wards of Gorion would sense his tainted blood upon meeting him. And yet, they were nowhere to be found while their companions were on a course straight for the monastery- something had changed. Melissan had assured him that- they were coming to him, she had directed them to- no. She was not as 'in control' as she had thought. Neither was he, if the exchanges he'd been having with Abazigal and Sendai recently were any indication. It might just be that the ones most in control right now were the wards of Gorion themselves. 

X

The sound of water dripping through the cavern gave the whole area a feel like that of the void, an empty pit where nothing existed except shadows and nightmares. Pools of water and condensation with that rippled with each falling drop, the only movement in the entire cave. And yet, through the darkness and through the void, if one cared to look, there stood the draconian son of Bhaal, Abazigal. Still in his human form, still holding back the true brilliance of his nature.

"Our time has come, my brethren!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the chamber. "The Realms lie before us, ready to fall. No army can stand before us, no force can hold us back. The Throne of Bhaal awaits those with the ambition and power to claim it... and I will not share the power with any other."

Hissing sounds began reverberating through the cave- Abazigal smiled. "The wards of Gorion are on the move. Sendai's forces are preparing to march against the surface, at Balthazar's command. Melissan hides from the forces of Tethyr, waiting for her opportunity to ride the coattails of our greatness. These puny mortals, these short-lived gnats. It is time to crush them, to burn them all until none remains but the superior race above! Rise, my kin! Rise, and darken the world with our power!"

A flash of blue light enveloped the cave, setting alight glowing mushrooms and fungi to fill the cavern with a sickly haze of green. In the center, Abazigal stood on his haunches, blue scales and ocean colored, spiked fins running from his head down the long, muscular neck. A single, large horn protruded from his head, bony and crackling with electricity. Behind him, dozens of pairs of reptilian eyes flashed open, chromatic drakes slithering from their nests while an amethyst dragon followed, concussive force knocking chunks of rock from the ceiling as it shouted in glorious praise of its master. A green dragon and a brown dragon flanked each other, biting and slashing against one another as they came to bow before Abazigal, their long necks lowering before rising again, waiting for their orders.

"Draconis, my son... it is time." Abazigal growled, lightning flaring from his snout with anticipation. "Take Fll'Yissetat with you and clear the path east- the geas she has sworn will ensure her loyalty to our cause."

"As you wish, father." Draconis smiled, his massive jaws stretching back around his dirt colored scales. "You will be following behind?"

"I will." Abazigal gestured at Tamah, the amethyst dragon as well as the nest of chromatic drakes. "We will darken the skies above Amkethran, and there will be nothing remaining of Balthazar's fortress. He thinks to control me? It is long past time that the people of Faerun learn to fear the eldest race once more. Take to the skies, my son. Tonight, Amkethran burns."


	31. Part 2: Self Deception

Shards of glass, a prism of alien design, infecting the tone of the world all around her making that which had been solid and tangible mere seconds ago fade like dust in the wind. At first, Nalia had mistaken the sensation for a concussion, brought on by a blow to the head she'd not seen coming, perhaps. There were certainly enough specters, skeletons and wraiths flitting about that she would not have been surprised if one had taken her unawares. And yet, that was not the case- this was something quite different- all the color was gone from the world, gray and drab but all in motion at once. Like a great wind had taken her by storm and robbed her senses of clarity.

A Time Stop, of course. She'd not yet mastered that spell, but it was one she was keen to add to her arsenal. The knowledge that Greywulf had done so before her was vexing to her pride, if nothing else, but the thought only spurred her on, as it had always done. Jealousy, was it? Unfitting for a noblewoman such as her, but the little knot of envy that had been planted upon first needing the help of the Bhaalspawn to save her people had never quite left since that day in the Copper Coronet. She should have been able to help her people- and she'd worked hard to make that a reality from then on. And yet, it still seemed that her powers were always a distant second to the half-elf sorcerer... or the Avariel elf. Or Imoen, the impish rogue.

A low hum began echoing in her ears, though it seemed to increase in pitch, a sharp whine that threatened to deafen her if it continued for long. Could she move, her hands would have been clasped over her ears until it ended- luckily for her and the others, it would be over within another second or two- the grainy texture of the frozen particles of the world began smoothing out, as Greywulf began phasing back into real time, dragging the rest of the world into sync with him. There were several different schools of thought on how the spell Time Stop actually worked- was it speeding up one person so fast that the others looked and felt like they were unmoving? Or perhaps it created a small singularity that everyone on the vicinity was bound to with the exception of the caster, who retained mastery? Nobody was completely certain, but regardless of the reasoning or the mechanics behind it, re-entry was always… rough.

An explosion deafened Nalia as her body jolted forward, the noblewoman planting her hands on the stone floor as it rumbled; the Temple trembled all around her, so many actions performed in so short a time, all igniting at once. She forced herself to look up, to see what exactly had transpired- dozens of magic missiles were igniting against the ethereal forms of their opponents, driving them back for a brief few seconds, while on the altar, the candle they had found burned with holy fire. Greywulf stood at the altar with both hands raised, words echoing through the air atop one another, all having been said at the same time and yet separate as well. To her ears, they were being overlaid and unintelligible- would the Ritual magic truly come and fulfill themselves upon such a re-enactment of the instructions?

Above the center of the Temple Foyer, the bell rang once, twice… three times, too quickly. Far too quickly for what it had been meant, and with the final ring, a long crack began to split across the side of it, while the stone ring that held it in place upon the ceiling crumbled. Nalia briefly heard a shout from Anomen, a warning, but her mind was on auto-pilot at this point. She scrambled to her feet, diving backwards from the bell as it fell to the Temple floor, exploding in dust as the whole room shook with the impact… no. Not just the impact of the collision, but of the ritual's fulfillment. The large seal on the center of the floor was glowing bright blue, the Hand and Eye of Helm filling with light. It faded to reveal a purple haze, mist and magic intermingling in a vortex that drew them in, if not unwillingly. The rest of the specters and skeletons in the room howled with either rage or fear- there was no time to figure out if they would cease their assault. Greywulf stumbled from the altar, drained by the power of his magic- Anomen grabbed the sorcerer by the shoulder, pulling him with Anomen towards the portal, while Reynald extended Nalia a hand, the two of them racing ahead of the others to reach their next destination.

A nagging worry crossed Reynald's mind as he briefly wondered whether or not this new portal would dump them someplace even worse, an arena of mind flayers or beholders perhaps… but there was no time. He felt his body phase through time and space as they passed beyond, the howl of spirits and the rush of wind vanishing as everything went silent. He and Nalia took a few steps apart, whirling back and forth to take in their new surroundings, assess any new threats- but there were none. The portal still swirled and glowed behind them, even as Anomen and Greywulf finally made their own appearance.

"By Helm, have we done it? Are we truly safe from that death-trap?" Anomen gasped, releasing the sorcerer from his shoulder, who staggered away from the portal, trying to raise some kind of defense if need be. Both Anomen and Reynald raised their shields and weapons, taking positions- and yet, none of it was necessary. Nothing followed, and it could only be surmised that for now, they had survived the first challenge of Watcher's Keep.

Greywulf slouched against a stone wall, sliding down to a seated position with a laugh of disbelief. "Anomen, I'm never letting you lead an expedition again."

The squire glanced back at his half-elf companion, only chuckling after a few moments of consideration. "You… are not without reason for such doubt, it would seem. Though I should like to remind you of our investigation of Reijek Hidesman and the tanning shop in Athkatla- it would seem that neither of us are of any use in keeping their party safe."

"Perhaps not." Greywulf conceded, before taking the measure of their new locale. It was a simple room, a large cube, almost, one torch burning eternally on two walls. The wall they'd just passed through still maintained the portal- a way out, at least, should they need it, though what awaited them on the other side might be as terrible as when they had left. And on the opposite wall- a massive wooden door, barred with large metal slats and rods, with a symbol of Helm imprinted on each door.

"And that would be the way to our next destination, I suppose." Anomen sighed. "I should think some rest and tending of wounds may be in order before we gather ourselves to venture forth. I imagine that our two mages would appreciate the opportunity as well?"

"You would guess correct, I think." Nalia nodded, moving to seat herself aside Greywulf. "It will take time to memorize the spells we'll assuredly need to survive this place. And sleep, while not exactly easy to come by in such a place, might be welcome."

"Heh. As if I could sleep after such an adrenaline rush. Still, your words have merit, my Lady." Anomen replied, seating himself across the room from the other two, joining Reynald as he slipped his family shield from his arm and laid it in front of him, still within easy reach should things go poorly. He let his mace down with a 'clunk' of metal on stone, the light glowing off the head of the enchanted weapon lessening without his hand to guide the tool in battle. He let the back of his head rest up against the stone behind him as he stripped off one gauntlet, running his hand across his face in a vain attempt to rid it of some of the dust and grime.

"I doubt we'll find a bathhouse anywhere within these catacombs. It'll be some time before we're fit for polite company again." Reynald noted, glancing at Anomen with a hint of a smile.

"Hah- true enough, I suppose. Old habits, I guess." Anomen chuckled, letting both of his hands rest in his lap, knuckles still whitish from having been gripping his mace so tightly. "The other squires and knights of the Order gave me no end of grief for my insistence on keeping my armor polished."

"Hah. I remember it well- always so particular." Reynald barked a laugh, though he quieted quickly. "I was not… with the Order very long after you became a squire, I do not think."

"No… no, I suppose not." Anomen mused. "I… I must have seemed ridiculous to the paladins and knights of the Order. This new squire, keeping everything he owned polished and gleaming day after day, never allowing a scratch to show through."

"You seemed no worse than any other of the new blood the Order trained or accepted." Reynald shrugged. "Perhaps the chip on your shoulder was a bit large…"

Anomen laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yes, yes… I cannot argue with that. It is, in fact, much of why I acted as I did. Much of why I became a squire in the first place. I cared far too much of what others saw of me, and not nearly enough of what they thought of me. I was proud of what I had accomplished, of what honor I could bring to my family, despite all my father's wretchedness. It was something I had dreamt of since realizing how low the Delryn name had sunk. I was determined that the Delryn name would mean something again."

"Which would be what… a shiny suit of armor?" Reynald arched an eyebrow, to which Anomen could only shrug in response.

"As I said… how things looked seemed so very important… I needed to show everyone that I was just as good, just as competent… it all seems so very long ago, thinking of it now. So much has changed since then." Anomen sighed, shaking his head. "Father is dead, and Helm help me, I cannot bring myself to shed tears for his passing. All his life his drunken words haunted me and pushed me onward, promising myself that I would prove him wrong. I sought glory, and have found it, in a small manner of speaking. It is not quite as fulfilling as I had originally dreamed."

"Such selfish goals never are." Reynald agreed, adjusting the angle of his scabbard so that he could still draw his blade if need be while they rested. Neither spoke for a time after that last word by Reynald- if his statement had drawn offense from the man beside him, he did an admirable job not showing it. Perhaps there was still a hint of animosity between the two- if so, it would not be surprising. Their paths were hardly dissimilar, but the key difference between them was that one was still in the Order… the other was not.

"So what drew you to the Order?" Anomen finally broke the silence, his voice even and calm. "I should hope your reasons were less selfish than my own."

Reynald hesitated for a moment, as if considering how much of his former life he wished to share. It was not something he shared with many willingly… though it seemed that the people he surrounded himself with these days already knew of his past indiscretions. The Bhaalspawn and his party that had pulled him from the ranks of the Fallen Paladins… the city guard, keeping him at arm's length for what he'd done in the past… even Anomen, whose condemnations could still be heard if he tried to remember hard enough.

A subtle clearing of the throat from Anomen made Reynald realize he'd left the question hanging in the air for too long- he inhaled for a brief moment, then made a decision. Secrecy be damned. There'd been enough of that in his life. "It was… not something I chose, so much as I fell into it, I think. You heard it- hell, you lived it. The Order of Radiant Heart is a legend, Anomen. A mythic tower of righteousness and valor that all little boys and girls grow up hearing about, dreaming about. A place where no evil goes unpunished and the only reward necessary for a good deed is the knowledge that justice was done."

"Heh… it does sound rather unreal, when you say it out loud, doesn't it?" Anomen murmured. "Still, there were those who lived up to the legend, weren't there?"

"A few. Not many, but a few." Reynald admitted. "Your mentor Keldorn was one of the exceptions- I trained under him for a short time, but he was never around at the Order Hall as often as the other senior paladins. Always off questing, fighting for another cause he found worthy. No time to sit and reflect upon his own grandeur and legend. Perhaps an example for the rest of the paladins to look up to?"

"You seem somewhat bitter towards the Order- I had thought you long since past any harsh feelings." Anomen noted, brushing aside the uncomfortable fact that he had felt similar bitterness toward the paladins of the Order, if for different reasons. Their standard was… difficult to live up to, and it was only in the most recent of months that he'd ceased trying, and simply set out to be the best man- knight, Helm willing- he could be.

"I do not believe I shall ever completely forget my time spent in those hallowed halls- nor the humiliation I felt upon being ejected." Reynald mused, feeling the tightness in his chest that always arose at the thought of his past life dissipate- perhaps he was moving on after all. "Do not mistake my own inability to forgive as an indication of belief in my own innocence, nor my bitterness as a lack of faith in the ideals of the Order. I know the wrongs I committed, both leading up to and after my expulsion. I recognize that in the end… I was not a fit man to stand alongside the paragons of our age. Better men than me should lead the people, inspire them- that is why I joined the Order, if you wish to know. I was inspired by the stories of the paladins of old, slaying beasts and defending those without the means to defend themselves. I wanted to be that inspiration to others as well."

"To be an inspiration is not an unworthy state, Reynald." Anomen offered. "Without the examples of our betters to look up to, we know not of what we can truly achieve."

"An unworthy state, no, but an unworthy goal… I think so. It is a paradox- one I could never reconcile. To become a living legend, one cannot aspire to it, lest the pride take you, as it did me…" Reynald trailed off, but Anomen distinctly heard the closing words in his own thoughts. _And as it nearly did you._

"We have more in common than either of us might like to admit, I think." Anomen smiled, and let himself relax for the first time since the conversation had drifted into the realm of the Radiant Heart. He had not even noticed how tense his body had become, all over a simple conversation? Unusual… perhaps it was the fact that for all intents and purposes, he was looking into a mirror- one that could just as easily have been his path, should he have allowed himself to falter in his road. Although perhaps it would be more appropriate to say, should he have met less worthy companions that had allowed him to falter on his road. Was that truly the difference between him and Reynald? The influence of Greywulf, Minsc, Imoen and Jaheira and all the others that had helped guide him along the way?

"You may not be a living legend as you had once dreamed, Reynald… but neither are you a wicked man. Everyone makes mistakes… it is how you respond, how you pull yourself onward afterwards that defines you. I think you have done well for yourself, if those words mean anything coming from a member of the Order."

The slightly jesting tone in Anomen's tone was enough for Reynald to return the smile; he nodded, then crossed his arms over his lap. "They do, I think. I am glad we had this conversation. I shall think better of my time in the Order in the future, perhaps. And when this is all over… mayhap my time in the city guard may be as well. If I am to truly leave behind the baggage of my old life, I should find a new world, where nobody knows my name. Something to think about… to aspire to."

As the squire and the guardsman ended their conversation, slowly drifting off to a rest they desperately needed, Nalia watched the oaken doors that separated their small group from the second level- at least, she presumed it was the second level- of the Keep. Time and space seemed to stretch in different ways within this fortress- part of its creation by Helm, no doubt. Just how large was the inside of this place, then? If the rules of nature no longer applied within, their exploration could take a very long time…

"You seem nervous, Nalia." Greywulf offered, his knees tucked up to his chest as he held them in place, arms wrapped around himself. It was a position Imoen adopted more often than not when they were resting at camp and soon enough, he'd found himself doing it as well. One of those sibling things he'd never quite grown accustomed to, he supposed.

"Are you surprised?" Nalia nearly laughed aloud with skepticism. "You saw what we just survived above- or is it behind us? Regardless, as much as we need rest, I cannot say I shall feel safe anywhere so long as we remain within this place."

"Your point is well taken, though the adventuring life tends to dull that sense of immediacy, I think." Greywulf noted, letting his legs free to stretch out as he brushed ashes and cobwebs from his robes, remnants from their battle fought such a short time ago. "You take your sleep where you can get it, consequences be damned. Not to say a lookout wouldn't be useful. I can take first watch if you like; we can trade after a few hours? I'm sure neither Anomen nor Reynald would mind taking a shift as well."

"It would certainly ease my mind… I had once researched what kind of ingredients it would take to cast a spell to provide solace in the night for a solid eight hours- I rather lost interest in its workings once I took over my father's responsibilities." Nalia mentioned.

"Hmm. That would be handy, I agree. I suppose ruling a small kingdom of your own would tend to strip away a lot of the free time on your hands, wouldn't it?" Greywulf chuckled. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised you've come as far as you have in your magics since we last met- it's only been… what, a year, at most? Not to say the potential wasn't there, but usually, advancing so far in so short a time requires a dedication and commitment few people have."

"Perhaps, but having the coffers of a small kingdom, as you say, can do wonders for purchasing what might otherwise be unattainable." Nalia replied with a knowing smile, even as she twisted the ring on her finger. Truth be told… it *was* impossible. Gaining the power she sought, enough to oppose the Twisted Rune… it would take years and years, time she didn't have, time where she'd be forced to buy her people's safety and freedom from mercenaries instead of defending them as she should have. Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.

"Is that why you came to Watcher's Keep with Anomen, then? I believe you made mention a while back of your desire to find a few magical trinkets within this place… is that your whole motivation in this affair? Looting the dungeon, so to speak?" Greywulf asked, his question surprisingly pointed.

"You make it sound as though I have no loyalty to you or the squire sleeping across from us." Nalia snorted. "Your aid saved my life and that of my people, and I owe you a debt that I intend to repay- this mission you seek help for, defeating the remaining Bhaalspawn- it is a worthy goal and I will see it done by your side. But to do so, I require power, and I will have it, from whatever means necessary. Artifacts such as this tome of golem summoning are just a taste of what lies inside this place. I intend to make as much of it my own as possible. Adding such power to my own ability… the De'Arnise lands will never be threatened again, not so long as I draw breath."

Her words were… surprising, to the half-elf. She had never been quite so forceful, so ambitious in the past. Before, her primary goal had been the safety of her father, of her lands. Now, it almost seemed like that was a simple byproduct of the power she intended to wield… a dangerous road that led to terrible fates for many wizards who overextended their reach. "Fair enough- if that is truly your intent, then please allow me this bit of advice- do what you will with it, but let me have my say, nonetheless."

Nalia nodded, allowing the wizard to speak. He inhaled sharply, wondering if it was his right to say these things. She was nobility… but she was also a friend. Besides, he'd never been one to stand on ceremony. "You speak of magical items, devices to increase your power- but such things are never handled easily. Wands, even tomes of summoning are easy to master, easily bent to a mage's will, but the things we may find below… they could tear your very soul apart if you are not careful. You have shown yourself a remarkable mage, learning so much and gaining power so quickly in such a short time, but do not let your pride cloud your judgment- as you say, your lands need you. You would be a far better ruler alive than as a lich."

"Is that your fear? You think me mad enough to try and defy death itself?" Nalia laughed aloud, fixing Greywulf with a confident stare. "I am… grateful, for your concern, but it is unnecessary. Magic flows in your veins as well as mine… you know the power that we wield, the allure of its call. Could either of us have come this far without mastering it within ourselves first? Get your rest, Greywulf. I shall take first watch tonight instead. Tomorrow we delve into the second level of this Watcher's Keep- I welcome the sight of it."

Greywulf looked at her features a moment longer, then nodded and tucked himself down upon the ground, leaving Nalia seated alone, awake, and unquestionably more frightened than ever before. He had been far too accurate for her tastes… could he sense the weakness inside? The inadequacy, the true lack of skills that she tried desperately to hide?

For all of her 'power', it would only take one man, even a friend like the Bhaalspawn, to see through her ruse and then all of it would be for naught. She twisted her ring again, adjusted her robes, and rechecked the buckle on her belt, forcing herself to remain calm. All she needed to do was play the role of an archmage long enough… and soon enough, it would no longer be a role. Just a little bit longer.

X

"Traveling west, then south and back through the desert will almost certainly take us into the path of Tethyr's army again. But Amkethran is based upon the side of the mountain pass that borders the desert. If we can master the slopes of these peaks, we can cross the border and reach the city without worrying about any of Jamis' men." Cernd spoke as he pointed toward the top of the peaks that overshadowed the four travelers. "Minsc? What do your ranger skills tell us?"

The ranger peered at the cliffs before them, the high craggy slopes and the paths that scant few had traveled in the past, so difficult and treacherous were the footholds and landings. His eyes discerned the viable spots to climb, his skills picking out which places could actually sustain their party. He smiled, pointing out a few spots, laying out a path for the group to start on, though Aerie found herself drifting away, paying little attention to the words of the Rashemani.

Truth be told, Aerie would normally have been intent upon listening to her ranger protector, always a voice of… perhaps wisdom was not the correct term, but clarity, maybe. He was someone whose worldview so very rarely changed and made it easy for her to do the same. But Aerie was in no mood for such reflection- not while the memory of so much death rang clear in her mind. Not that she was any stranger to death or devastation these days. Saradush was a smoking crater, one she'd witnessed firsthand. She'd killed dozens while traveling with Imoen and Minsc- some by way of sling, others by quarterstaff, but most of all by sorcery. Fire, lightning, ice and wind- she'd commanded a mastery over all of them at different times, and many had come up short when measuring themselves against her. Why did this last battle cut her so deeply?

Was it the number of people slaughtered? The sheer volume of lives that had been lost? No… they'd fought larger battles in the past and it had made little difference to her then. She'd rained molten lava on dozens of orcs at a time when they fought to make their way to De'Arnise Keep, a year or so back. The fact that it was human lives, rather than monsters, perhaps? No… her time spent on the road had shown her just how monstrous the so-called civilized races could be. It didn't take scales and a snout to make a monster out of someone.

Aerie barely noticed the small rockslide she started upon taking the slightest of missteps as they trekked up the steep mountain pass, but she nearly toppled backwards until she realized just where she was. A quick rebalancing of her weight and all was well, but the near miss had not gone unnoticed by her companions. "You would do well to watch your step, child. T'would take us another hour to go back down after you if you tumbled all the way back down to the base of the mountain, no?"

Aerie glanced behind her, eyes widening in surprise at how far they'd climbed without her even noticing. The air was beginning to thin, just slightly- Aerie returned Jaheira's bemused smile, waving her onward. "I… thank you for that observation. I'll do my best not to slow anyone down then."

"Such talk!" Jaheira rolled her eyes, letting a questioning gaze fall upon the Avariel for a moment as she waited for the elf to gain strides, finally even with her on the mountain before continuing the trek forward. "You sound as though you are back in those first weeks of traveling with us."

"Baervan forbid the thought…" Aerie whispered under her breath, just loud enough for Jaheira to hear it, though the slip was most certainly intentional. The druid let out a rare chuckle, then nodded, using the shaft of her spear as leverage to help her maintain balance as she climbed a particularly difficult stretch of path.

"That is more of what I expected. A quick rejoinder- and perhaps a reminder that the old days were not as easy or carefree as nostalgia would have us believe." Jaheira said with a nod. "Now then, if you wish, I would lend an ear to your troubles. Your countenance betrays your melancholy- 'tis rare to see you without a smile. You even give Imoen a challenge when it comes to being insufferably upbeat."

"I take that as a compliment- I think." Aerie replied cautiously, "My mind wanders back to our fight outside the village- we killed so many of that mob… their deaths weigh heavily on me, though I do not understand why."

"Is it so hard? I would have thought that you of all our companions would understand the tragedies of life lost." Jaheira replied quietly. "Sometimes the balance requires that blood be shed, and I have no qualms over the killing of those whose actions have demanded it. I have even relished the taking of life at times- but it is never easy to witness slaughter."

"Slaughter? Is that what you call it, then?" Viconia laughed, the other two women looking to see the cloaked drow standing above them, having paused on the trek upwards to listen and join their conversation, invited or not. "Your prejudice blinds you. That was not slaughter, it was justice."

"Was it? Killing those who had no chance of survival is not something to be lauded." Aerie replied with a frown, shaking her head. "There were ways of pacifying them that-"

"Do not waste your time trying to argue with Viconia." Jaheira muttered, pushing herself forward in an attempt, however unsuccessful, to step past the drow and avoid any further debate with her. Not that she expected Aerie or Viconia to let it go- nor could she, truly. "She knows little of morality or balance, despite our best attempts to educate her."

"I have killed men for speaking about me in such a dismissive way." Viconia snarled- no matter when or where, throwing the two of them into the same group led to argumentation- sometimes violent- after a short period of time. "You talk of justice? Morality? Those villagers would have burned me at the stake for simply existing. Do you presume to side with them over me?"

"I would never presume anything when it comes to you." Jaheira retorted, before glancing back to Aerie. "But she and I were talking, and you saw fit to intrude where your attention was not wanted, or welcome. We will continue our conversation at another time, I think."

"I can speak for myself quite well, Jaheira." Aerie called out with folded arms, blue eyes narrowing. "And I do not side with those people we killed. If you… truly were attacked by them, then they deserved some measure of punishment for their crime. But there other methods-"

"Naiveté… how charming." Viconia sneered. "Let me tell you something, darthirii. If you had chosen to incapacitate those people, before I'd had my fill of vengeance? I would have slaughtered them regardless. They made their choices. I will not feel any sort of regret at ending their lives, regardless of their skill or fanaticism. Maybe someday you will learn how the world truly works, little girl."

Aerie's face flushed hot with frustration- as much as she'd convinced herself that the opinions of others mattered little to her, enough goading and she'd still start to take it more personally than was wise. Jaheira had begun treating her with respect a while ago, and she'd damn well earned it. Sarevok had pushed her, and she'd shown him just what she was capable of. Now this drow was going to begin? Oh no. She clenched her fists, climbing to face the bemused drow at an equal level. "Just because we fight against monsters does not mean we need to behave like them. That's not who we are."

"Is that so? I am shocked you have survived so long with such an innocent view of the world. But perhaps I should not be- gods know that Greywulf has a track record of dragging fools in his wake. Although perhaps he keeps the two of you around less for your personalities and more for your other, more physical benefits?"

As the eyes of both Aerie and Jaheira flashed with anger, Minsc glanced back at the three women, voices beginning to rise, and echo across the mountain side. He sighed, glancing down at Boo for a bit of advice. Two squeaks later, he nodded, turning back to the path, keeping his eyes on where to take the party next. Perhaps it would be best to let the three of them alone for a while. Getting involved could be… messy.

He sighed, choosing instead to continue keeping watch, even if it also proved an opportunity to take in the sights around him. He let himself smile for a moment, despite the consistent shift of grass and greenery to the mountainous terrain they ascended, there were still a few patches of wildflowers and shrubs that reminded him of the nature he seemed to miss more and more of as their path took them further down the war path. Boo's squeaks caught his attention- he glanced at the small animal and nodded eagerly. "Flowers are beautiful, aren't they, Boo? I wish there were more to see."

Perhaps Cernd had thought Minsc was speaking to him, or maybe he simply appreciated the nod to his domain of choice. Regardless, he smiled and turned to the ranger, linking eyes with him for a moment. "I see you have an appreciation for the small things, Minsc. You see the power in their simple nature."

Minsc laughed, shrugging with contentment. "I don't understand much that is complicated, but the trees and the flowers are music to my eyes. Boo prefers the calm of the forest, though he suffers my company."

"Ah, you are his tree amidst the cities and people, and despite your bending and bowing in the wind, you are his stability, as I suspect he is yours." the druid chuckled, leaning over and extending one finger to Boo, the hamster sniffing gently at his extended digit.

"No… he is my hamster. You talk in circles, Cernd, but that's okay. Boo runs in them." Minsc replied, eliciting a full laugh from the normally stoic guardian of nature.

"It is… good to travel with those outside of my circle again, at least for a time." Cernd noted, wrapping his furs around him a bit tighter to shield from the cool mountain air. "There is a time to travel amidst the pack, and a time for acting as the lone wolf. But to find a new pack, ones who do not conform to your accustomed beliefs and traditions… it can be refreshing."

The raven haired druid paused for a moment to breathe deeply- perhaps not due to exhaustion from the climb, but to simply reflect and meditate on their current situation. "This… battle. The people we have found ourselves entwined with… do you regret it at all?"

"Regret?" Minsc arched one eyebrow, shaking his head firmly. "May it never be said that Minsc would shirk his duty to those he calls friend! Boo would nae show his face were I to do something so dastardly!"

"Hmm." Cernd smiled, before adding, "Note, my large friend, I did not question your commitment to what has happened… but if you had regrets about what might have been."

The distinction between the two may have been lost on the simple ranger's mind, a point which Cernd had considered but at least felt the need to express. But the contemplation on Minsc's face told a different story, one that indicated he at least was considering what the druid had asked him "Eh… there are things Minsc wishes could have been different. Dynaheir… Khalid… friends who I might've protected, had things been different. But my answer is still no. Minsc fights for right, and there is nothing more right than what Greywulf and Imoen and all of us do here. Minsc regrets nothing."

Cernd remained expressionless for a few moments, then let a grin blossom across his sharp features. He slapped one hand across the large ranger's shoulder pauldron, nodding in approval. "Then you are in balance, large one. Jaheira told me I would find your company refreshing. She was right, as always. It shall be a pleasure to travel at your side, I think."

Minsc glanced behind him to see Jaheira, Aerie and Viconia still exchanging vicious glares, but it seemed Jaheira had noticed the small conversation between the druid and ranger- she gave a nearly imperceptible nod of approval before being goaded by another comment by the drow- right back into the verbal fray, it seemed.

"Always right… if not always even-tempered, though I should hardly find it surprising." Cernd mused, looking back at the others with Minsc, even as they continued climbing. "Jaheira never had an easy time finding peace when faced with conflict. I often wonder if my cursed blood has given me a greater insight into controlling my passions."

"Cursed blood?" Minsc asked, his curiosity piqued. "You should speak to Aerie! She is very good at removing curses… eh, mostly. There was one time with an eeevil little man named Ployer that she could not help, but that was a long time ago. She has gotten much better since then."

"Were it so simple." Cernd chuckled. "The power to transform into a wolfwere at will is no small feat of discipline- in part, I became a druid in hopes of learning nature's path to conquering this wretched beast within me. But, as with nature itself, the key lies in not conquering, but co-existing. Bending the will of the beast towards the light, countering the shadow nature within."

A skid of rock crumbled down the hill as Cernd finally reached a mark where they could see between two of the mountain peaks, a thin passage that was perfectly in line with the curvature of the mountains themselves. To a trained eye, one could look through the thin cloud cover and spy the glint of clay, brick and glass way off in the distance, built into the base of the opposite side of the mountain range. "Amkethran, is it? I do not relish returning to a city soon, but there is a time for all things, yes? I hope we-"

Cernd paused for a moment, his senses immediately going into overdrive as his body froze, breath halting, every human sound deadening to his ears. Minsc was saying something, and there were still comments being tossed back and forth by Aerie and Viconia, but… somewhere, *somewhere*, there had been a sound… a roar, echoing through the heavens? He let his druidic training take over, forcing everything else down, channeling all five senses into one.

The sound of air being displaced by the fast beats of wings. Serpentine forms knifing through the clouds. Hot breath, sprinkled with gouts of flame, lightning and ice crackling in the high mountain air. Scales shifting against one another. "Cernd?"

Minsc's question tore the druid back to reality- his head snapped to look at Minsc, Cernd's eyes wide, his face hard as stone. "Minsc, find us a path upward and over these peaks, quickly. I will roust the others- we cannot tarry. I fear that we are no longer the only ones heading to the fortress in the desert."

X

The outer edge of the forest was far too bleak a place for any normal travelers, especially in the current condition of the lands of Faerun. Yet, for those looking for trouble… there were certain advantages to be found. Cover, shade, ample firewood at night… and plenty of vantage points to watch for enemies. Imoen peered out into the darkness, watching for any signs of movement in the lands they'd just crossed upon leaving the desert. If she squinted her eyes and let her imagination run wild, she could almost make out the blurring mirages coming off the heat of the desert sands, just a speck in the distance now.

It was an odd zone of the world, at least as far as the climate went. A desert stretching alongside a mountain range, leading to plains and then a forest after several miles trek. Some claimed that the disparate terrain was due to the gods' fickle personalities, that they'd had an argument when designing that part of the world, or at least changed their mind several times. Regardless of how it had occurred, the sudden change was welcome- Imoen found herself much more at home in the shadows, as did Solaufein, no doubt. Imoen loosened her grip and allowed her weight to bring her in an arc to peer into the forest instead, the one handed grip she was holding onto one of the smaller trees keeping her planted with one foot in a swiveling perch while Solaufein stood below, about ten or twelve feet to the ground.

Haer'Dalis and Sarevok were seated around the campfire, the bard stirring the contents of a tin pot that was suspended over the flames, sniffing once before wrinkling his scarred features with disgust. He dug into one of the numerous pockets of his vest, dug out several sprigs of berry and vine, then tossed them into the pot, watching them slowly disappear within the bubbling broth.

"I have yet to find the foul stew that a hint of mulberry and nightshade would not cure." Haer'Dalis sighed, glancing at the Deathbringer who sat across from him, his features warping and flickering in the firelight. "Would you agree, my hound?"

"I am not your hound, bard." Sarevok's voice issued from the darkness like gravel, his face strangely dim with his eyes closed. "Your tendency to name those you travel with by animals is almost as annoying as your attempts to goad me. You did not put nightshade into the stew, t'was a root you pulled from a weed two hours past. If you had indeed tried to poison us, your head would be adding flavor to the soup right now."

"Hahaha! Ah, straight to the point then, is it? Very well then, *hound*. I knew another so-called villain who also denied any attempts to burrow into his mind and uncover the story beneath- the mad mage Irenicus- my encounter with him was not one I'd consider pleasant, but the chance to tell the tale was almost worth it."

"Would that he had ended your life there and I could have been spared this inane drivel." Sarevok groaned, one eye flickering open, the golden color glowing in the dark.

"Ah… but he did, if Aerie's tale is to be believed, is it not? My death at the hands of the traitor Yoshimo… servant of the Shattered One." Haer'Dalis replied easily, leaning forward to let his blue hair glimmer in the flames. "Perhaps I shall relay the tale of my survival someday… though I would be much more inclined to answer a story with a story, hmm?"

"That might be true if I had any interest in speaking with you at all. Which I do not." The Deathbringer growled, his glare as hot as the fire, even if Haer'Dalis remained unfazed.

The bard only laughed, and then peered quizzically at Sarevok. "Do not be so glum! There is much mirth to be found in the glory of tales and the thrill of battles, whether fought by sword or by limerick! Surely you would not begrudge me the attempt to learn another tale to tell across the lands? And why should it not involve the Butcher of the Gate? Tell me, then, if you will. Surely a man of your experiences can grant this poor bard some story to relay to the masses? A web of intrigue on your path to seizing the Iron Throne, perhaps? The climactic showdown between brothers, Greywulf and Sarevok, a battle to the death!"

The guttural snarl that issued from Sarevok's throat turned into a roar as he pushed himself to his feet and cracked his knuckles. "I shall give you to the count of five to cease your incessant prattle, before we find out just how well you speak without your teeth. One… four…"

Solaufein smirked as he watched the color drain from Haer'Dalis' face, Sarevok slowly sitting back down as Imoen leapt from the tree, landing in a crouch beside the drow. She bounded back to a fully standing position as she swept her hands off on the seat of her pants. "Well… that was fun. Always did like climbing trees, y'know?"

"I do not, as a matter of fact… there were no trees in the Underdark to climb." Solaufein deadpanned, eliciting a laugh from the thief-mage who slugged Solaufein in the arm playfully.

"Yer getting good at this! Heh. S'good to be traveling with you again, by the by. We missed having you along." Imoen smiled as she stretched her back before leaning against the tree. "How was Letherel?"

"I… am glad, as well. To be traveling with you again, I mean." Solaufein remarked, tilting his head just enough to be able to see Imoen from within his hood. "Dianya's sanctuary was… peaceful, and I was glad for the opportunity to find my own purpose while there. I might've stayed longer, had circumstances allowed for it."

"The world has a funny way of messing plans up, don't it?" Imoen chuckled. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, though. I've never had a chance to spend much time there- Greywulf promised me he'd take me back once this whole thing was over, but… well, like you said. Circumstances change and all that."

"I imagine you and the other children of Bhaal understand that fact better than most." Solaufein noted. "I am… surprised that your mortal enemy remains at your side. That you resurrected him in the first place. To allow such a dangerous foe to remain at your back is a folly that I would have advised against, had I been there."

"Yeah… Sarevok's not exactly what I'd consider a friend, you know? And I know he doesn't want the same things that Greywulf and I want… but he's part of this, whether we like it or not. And I'd rather have him fighting with us instead of against us…" Imoen shivered unconsciously as she gazed at the Deathbringer, seated once again, eyes glowing like fireflies in the dark. "Still creeps me out though."

"You need not fear him." Solaufein's voice was a bare whisper, hardly audible, silent to anyone but her. "I shall keep watch- if he desires to harm you or anyone else, he shall have to pass my blade first."

"Aww. That's sweet of you, but you're starting to sound kind of like Minsc." Imoen smirked, craning up on her tiptoes and giving the drow a small peck on the cheek. "And I'm no damsel in distress… usually."

"I… would not make that mistake, I think." Solaufein replied quietly.

They stood watch together in silence for a few moments longer, before Imoen yawned loudly. "Yeesh… it's been a while since I've been on a long wilderness march like this. Makes me think of when we were on the run outside Baldur's Gate. Not exactly fond memories… it'd be nice to not have to do this stuff ever again, y'know?"

"Ready to retire from the adventuring life already?" Solaufein inquired, blinking as he let his crimson eyes adjust to the dark again after gazing at the campfire. "I had not thought you the type to settle down so easily."

"Settle down? Pfft, not likely." Imoen snorted. "But I could do with less of these overnight marches and life-or-death sibling blood matches. Always liked the sound of Waterdeep. Makes me think of… swimming."

"Swimming?" Solaufein asked slowly, one eyebrow rising in disbelief. "Your plans after this war include… swimming."

"Why not?" Imoen laughed, shoving Solaufein lightly. "What about you, huh? When all this is over, when we've taken care of this Bhaalspawn mess, what do you think you'll be doing? Settling down in Letherel again?"

"Perhaps, but I had considered simply… traveling with you and the others again, if you would have me." He replied slowly. "You and the others are… friends. My only ones, possibly. Traveling with people you can trust implicitly… it is an addiction to one such as me, I think."

"An addiction, huh?" Imoen smiled. "That's one way to put it. Getting addicted to booze might help you live longer though."

"There! That's them!"

A shout caught the attention of the four companions as several magical flares launched into the air, courtesy of several cloaked mages that were pushing through the tree line behind them, no doubt a signal to the rest of the Tethyr forces nearby. "Hmm. Speaking of decreased lifespans…" Imoen muttered, taking several steps back toward the campfire where Haer'Dalis and Sarevok were already roused, Sarevok's blade already coming from its sheath.

"Hey, remember what we said." Imoen warned the giant warrior. "No killing. Wouldn't want to make it too easy on Sendai and her forces, right?"

"Hnh." Sarevok grunted. "And having the full might of Tethyr bearing down on us will be much better, I'm sure. We should get moving. The campfire drew their attention well enough- no need to tarry any longer. Their mages will contact Jamis' main horde, and they'll be on our trail soon enough."

"Maybe." Imoen frowned, drawing a glowing red arrow from her quiver and nocking it to her bow. "But like you say, let's keep them back a bit. 'Greywulf'?"

Haer'Dalis smirked and swirled his hands as fire grew between them, Imoen drawing the bow all the way back- a fireball erupted before the scouts of Tethyr, blocking their passage as a fire arrow set another tree alight, threatening to set the whole forest ablaze- it would add to the ease of those seeking to find the altercation, but keep their immediate pursuers off them for a few moments. The mages would surely have to take time to stop the rapidly growing fire, and their warriors would not dare pursue without magical support.

Watching their handiwork with satisfaction, the four of them turned and bolted further west, slipping into the forest proper with nary a look behind them. "I think we've got their attention now!" Imoen shouted to Haer'Dalis as she vaulted a fallen log, sliding over the top and landing in a run. "Anyone got any ideas on part two of this master plan?"

"You mean drawing the forces of Tethyr into battle with Sendai." Sarevok called back, barreling through the underbrush and tree branches in the way of his massive bulk. "You said it best, back in the desert. The Bhaalspawn can sense one another, especially as we draw nearer in proximity. Any use of the taint itself, tapping into its true depths of power… it will be like a siren's call to anyone with the blood who is actively seeking their kin. It will be upon one of us, sister, to truly draw Sendai in."

They continued running for a bit longer, silent other than their labored breathing. Still, the implication was clear, as was the responsibility that lay upon Imoen's shoulders. Calling Sendai in was the last part of the trap to be sprung, but to actively draw on the taint, to fully embrace it's power, let it thunder wildly instead of bottling it away… it was not something she was comfortable with doing. If Sarevok were capable of doing it… but no. The portion of the taint indwelt within him now was so miniscule that its full strength was needed simply to sustain his mortal shell. Using it to call in Sendai was not an option… and that left only one other capable of the task at hand.

A vision of the Laughing Death came unbidden to her mind again, but she pushed it away immediately. Greywulf had done it. Transformed into the Slayer, mastered the power of a Pocket Plane… Sarevok had channeled the power of Bhaal into the Sword of Chaos, giving his very weapon the touch of Murder. If they could do it… so could she.

Imoen paused a moment, the others slowing to watch her as she clenched her fists, steeling her courage and gathering her willpower. "Time to light it up, huh? No time like the present…"

"Perhaps we should wait until we have gathered a touch more distance between us and the Tethyrians, my wildflower…?" Haer'Dalis began, before being hushed by Sarevok.

"Quiet, bard. She gathers the power of Bhaal to herself… I doubted I would ever see the day. Let us see now whether she can actually command it…"

Imoen's face contorted as her body began to convulse, a red haze beginning to form in the air around her. A voice began echoing in her head, crawling from the depths of her psyche and soul, emerging from the darkness she'd chained inside her so long ago. _Let me out, Immy…_

A gasp of breath burst from Imoen's lungs as she clutched at her chest, clawing at the elven mail she wore underneath her tunic as though trying to get something evil out of her. This was so uncharted for the rogue- all this time spent pushing the taint down, burying it under cheer and sweetness, never giving it the light of day. Every carefully constructed barrier she'd put up in her mind was coming down, and facing what lay inside was going to take all her strength to overcome, to control. Her eyes blazed open, blood beginning to trickle from the corners of them and down her cheeks as she trembled… _"__Immy… time to let me have a turn, hmm?"_

"No…. no no no no s'my body my world just need you for a moment just a moment no more than that-_Don't kid yourself, Immy, you've needed this for a loooong time- _no I don't I know I don't just a little bit-_more like__ a lot, let go Immy, trust me, the things I'll show you, you won't ever want to be in control again_…" Imoen whimpered as she clutched herself, power fluctuating around her.

"Imoen!" Solaufein's voice was barely audible, the clash of wills inside Imoen coming to a head as she threw her head back, an unearthly howl booming from her mouth with light that blinded each and every onlooker…

As their vision returned, Solaufein lowered the arm he'd raised to shield himself to see Imoen staggering to her feet, nearly falling until he caught her, holding her up. "S'done… I think… I think she knows we're here." Imoen whispered to Solaufein. "Gotta keep moving, right? Lots of drow… mind flayers too. Whole damn Underdark will be coming up to kill us here… if the army behind us doesn't do it first."

"So you survived… I am impressed, sister." Sarevok grunted with a nod of approval. "You may be worthy of sharing our father's blood after all. Come, there is little time to rest. 'Greywulf', lead the way."

Haer'Dalis nodded and thrust himself forward, taking point as they delved further into the woods, Imoen slowly shrugging off Solaufein's shoulder to walk under her own power once more. She barely said a word, but the weariness in her eyes gave way quickly to… something else entirely. Imoen laughed quietly, under her throat, a chuckle from deep within. Solaufein's keen ears caught it, as he remained by her side as they ran. "Are you… are you well, Imoen?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, right as rain. I just… thought of something funny, that's all." Imoen flashed Solaufein a grin, the drow slowly nodding, concern still evident on his dark features.

Concern. Heh. Concern for her. The thought made her want to laugh again. As did most thoughts, really. Like the thought of slaughtering her sister, this 'Sendai.' And then the rest of the Five. And then, when it was all over, guiding a blade across Sarevok's throat and watching his neck burst open like a fountain. And then maybe Greywulf-

Imoen gasped, shaking her head at the horrifying thoughts that had crept into her head. Was she…? No. She was still in control. Imoen. Her. Not… _her. _She kept moving, her mouth suddenly dry as the desert they'd left a day ago… never realizing that only now, were the whites of her eyes slowly returning from the ebony void they'd become just a few seconds ago.


	32. Part 2: Death from Above

A flash of crimson, blood red eyes glowing in the dark. It was like a small tremor had rattled her entire body, a miniature earthquake in her body that caused her teeth to click together and her heart to pound just so much faster in her chest. Nervousness? No… nothing of the sort. She was a powerful cleric, commanding an army of Underdark soldiers that rivaled even the armies of Ust Natha.

This sudden shudder of power she'd felt, her entire body reacting to… something, it could be but one thing. The power of Bhaal, the presence of one like her, utilizing the blood magic within. She'd had enough interaction with Balthazar and Abazigal to know what their presence would feel like… this was someone new. Someone powerful. And if that was true… there were few, if any Bhaalspawn left with the kind of power she'd just felt. Excepting, of course, the two that they hunted. Gorion's wards, the sorcerer Greywulf and the thief-mage Imoen… could one of them truly be so near her lair?

Of course. It made perfect sense, after all. If she and the other members of the Five were hunting the wards of Gorion, why wouldn't they be hunting her? This was an unexpected opportunity… she'd been saving her army- if doing so begrudgingly- for a final strike upon the surface world. The armies of Faerun couldn't ignore the Bhaalspawn forever. And even once all the Bhaalspawn aside from the Five were dead, it would take time to bring Bhaal back to life, to recreate themselves as demigods. And it would be foolish to assume that the other members of the Five might not decide to steal the full powers of Bhaal for themselves- she'd taken some measure of Balthazar's advice, keeping her own forces back for just such an occasion, but this… one of their final foes, so very close to her own sanctuary of power?

Sendai stood, her dark robes flowing behind her as she spun from her meditation chamber and strode to her armor locker instead. The time had come for action- and she would be at the fore of her armies. A thought of the 'invulnerable' Yaga-Shura came to mind for a brief moment, and it was enough to give her some small measure of pause as she reached for the handle to her armoire.

Surely she did not necessarily have to take the field herself- she had armies and generals enough to lead her forces against her prey. They were all more than capable of striking the necessary blows against her foes. The only way she'd be able to take hold of the powers of Bhaal would be to stay alive… that had to be her number one priority. Anything else would be foolhardy. In fact… of course. It was so clear. For one of her foes to reveal themselves so clearly, so easily for her to sense and pursue… a trap, of course. It could be nothing else. And yet… she had sensed her foe. There was a Bhaalspawn so very near, one of only two remaining… at least, two of any importance. To simply ignore it… that was not an option either.

Sendai snarled in frustration, spinning away from her weapons and armor, choosing instead to push open the darksteel doors that led from her meditation chamber into the war room where her generals made their presence known. If one did not completely understand the hierarchy of drow society, or at the very least, the hierarchy of those in power within her army, one might be excused for considering Sendai less… impressive, than those who awaited her orders. Their murmurings and talk of strategies quieted as soon as she entered, her figure so dark and imposing that it almost appeared as though she wore the shadow as a cloak.

She remained silent as she strode to the circular table that her generals encircled- she regarded each of them with a cold glare, as though examining a worm or an insect, despite their power. On her left stood the priestess Diaytha and commander Egeissag, the commanders of her drow army. Diaytha had spent years learning at Sendai's feet, desperately trying to understand and command the secrets of her mistress' power. Like all drow, she craved that which was above her, and would continue seeking it until she had it… or until she overstepped her bounds and forced Sendai to slay her. Egeissag was the best warrior she had found among her forces… and for a male, he was quite adequate. His skill with a blade was much more compelling than his skill in a bed, however. Still, his ability to lead men into battle made him useful to keep around, even more so with his strange… familiar. Somehow the man had bound a beholder servant to himself- the enormous floating beast was always behind him, always watching and snarling, always eager to unleash its magic against the foes Egeissag designated… although it would not be unreasonable to think that the beholder was just as eager to strike down Egeissag were it ever to receive the opportunity.

On Sendai's right stood a tangle of alien mass and tentacle horror. The black and purple robe covering its spindly body was flanged at the top, a wave that was just taller than the diamond shaped cranium of the leader of her illithid forces. Mithykyl, an Ulitharid, was one of her strongest allies, and had brought dozens of his illithid to bear at her side when she had initially begun building an army worthy of ruling the Realms. His psionic abilities were unmatched- even if the sheer power he commanded had the unfortunate side effect of creating a high-pitched whine in the back of everyone's skull while he was around. The four shorter tentacles that protruded from the bottom of his face slid back and forth, writhing like a baby octopus learning to swim, while the extra two, covered in purple slime and extending all the way to its knees, wrapped themselves around the spikes and rods of their war table as he awaited her instructions.

Across the table stood her final general, not even a leader of men or armies in his own right, but so powerful she could afford to call him nothing else- Ogremoch, the Prince of Earth. Perhaps she was petty, but upon finding out that Yaga-Shura had bound Imix, Prince of Fire to his Temple in the Marching Mountains, she had immediately begun searching for a way to bind a similar Elemental Prince to her own fortress. After several dozen monks had expired beneath her torturer's blades, one had finally relinquished the ritual she needed. The service of this incarnation of earth was well worth the time and effort it had taken to bind it.

None of the generals dared question her, but their expectant glances made their minds clear enough to her. She unhooded herself, revealing the long white hair flowing behind her. "Our prey is upon us. One of the wards of Gorion has made themselves known, close by the surface entrance to our enclave. We will not waste this opportunity. Godhood is at hand, my loyal servants!"

Sendai let a smirk cross her face as she turned to face Egeissag and Diaytha. The two of them both bowed upon recipient of her intense gaze- she nodded, her intent clear to them. "The two of you will take command of my drow and duergar forces. Swarm the surface world. *Find* them, or do not return at all. You will receive reinforcements from the rest of our forces… soon. You are the vanguard- strike quickly and silently, and some measure of glory will be yours. Fail, and be left in the dust of history, forgotten in the glory of ascension."

The two drow commanders bowed and immediately turned to stalk from the room, leaving Sendai with her remaining generals- she gestured toward the door, metal slamming against metal as the portal closed. "Now… the rest of you. There will be no victory by my priestess or my commander. The Bhaalspawn did not draw us out for a fair fight… Egeissag will fall to their might, and Diaytha will flee, leading them to our enclave. You… all of you, will be waiting for them"

X

"Oh hell. This is going to be a pain in the ass, I can tell already."

Greywulf's half-muttered grumblings elicited a sideways glance from Reynald, but to be honest, it wasn't as though his concern was unwarranted. After several hours of uninterrupted sleep across the board, all four companions had finally prepared to continue their trek through the second tier of Watcher's Keep. True to their hopes, no undead, no spirits had followed them through the portal they'd passed into to leave behind their pursuers from the Temple of Helm they'd abandoned. But the small room they'd arrived in looked better all the time upon their exit from it.

They'd come into a large, circular room with a domed ceiling, four large hallways stretching north, south, east and west. Above each hallway was a large gem, and each one glowed a different color. The domed ceiling had a glass look to it, although it was still opaque and its purple sheen was all that could be witnessed when looking straight up. Almost hypnotizing in its intensity, the strange architecture seemed to confirm their belief that the Watcher's Keep existed on a different plane than the straight up and down tower that one viewed on the outside would have a visitor believe.

The floor was pure marble, with a bright sheen across its surface as though there was a servant buffing out the footprints or skid marks of any trespassers each day… which, judging by the seeming randomness of this place, could have been the case. It was just as hard to believe that a single imp named Cespenar served as the butler to Bhaal in a Pocket Dimension of the Throne, if one were to truly press the issue. Still, all of this was mere set dressing, hardly worth noting, especially when compared to the true centerpiece of this visual feast. Directly to their right when entering the room, there was a large cage- part crackling ice, part blazing fire, part bubbling acid, and part sizzling lightning. The four elements of its construction seemed to warp and shift constantly, and inside the cage stood- or perhaps hung- a large demon, very similar in appearance to one of the Balors they had faced in the past. Its large horns still encircled its face, but they were glowing a bright blue instead of being the sickly yellow they would normally shine. Its black eyes were green, flashing like poison. The red fur it sported glowed brightly, as though ready to erupt into flame at any minute, and its claws were bright white, almost blinding in their intensity. This was no ordinary beast… nor was it contained in an ordinary way. Aside from the large cage of elements that kept it back, a massive golden spear was jutting through its chest, pinning it to the wall despite the beasts' attempts to pull the weapon from his chest. Every time it attempted to drive the spear back from its body, the spear shuddered, driving itself back into the demon's body, impaling it further.

Another roar from the beast- its frothing maw and hateful gaze finally focused on the four interlopers, as though unsure what to make of the new arrivals- it ceased its struggles, a grim smile creeping over its horrific features. "Ah… mortals, within Watcher's Keep? Interesting. Not Knights of the Vigil either, if my memory of them endures. Welcome, welcome…"

"Do not attempt to bewitch us with your honeyed words, demon." Anomen commanded, leveling his mace at the beast. "You will not manipulate us as easily as you might believe."

"Manipulate you? Hahaha… what possible way could I channel your behavior… I am, after all in here, and you all… are not. I simply seek to expedite your goals, as they are actually quite similar to mine, I think." The demon grinned, a bestial smile that did more to unnerve them than to put their minds at ease.

"I somehow doubt that…" Reynald took a step back, lowering his tower shield a small fraction as if accepting the fact that the beast could not break free from his bonds and strike at any moment. "Our quest is a holy one- you know nothing of our motives."

"Perhaps… perhaps not." The demon yawned, though a pulse from the spear embedded in its chest elicited a pained growl from the creature. "You… urghh… you seek to continue descending into Watcher's Keep, don't you? You seek what is… down there."

The claw of the demon pointed downward, towards the stone floor beneath their feet- upon looking down, all four saw what the demon was referring to- another massive seal of Helm emblazoned on the floor, just as it had been in the Temple above- was it truly above?- them. Greywulf inhaled sharply, then fixed his gaze on the Chromatic demon, mentally settling himself. To gaze into the eyes of a demon was enough to drive a weak mind insane… whether the magical cage that kept the beast contained would also shield them from the mental abilities of a demon was not a test he was eager to take. Better to be safe. And safe meant keeping this demon contained, and ignored, if at all possible. "You delay our search for the exit to this place. If you have anything useful to say, do it now, or we shall simply leave you to your torment."

"Ooohh… very intimidating, sorcerer." The demon laughed, a choking, retching noise. "Surprised? I can sense the magic clinging to you… it's like an aura, a bright little candle in the darkness of this world. The same aura clings to you, little girl… but perhaps diminished-"

"Enough of your words, beast!" Nalia cut the demon off with a shout, her tone flustered, if only for a moment. "You will tell us how to reach the lower levels, or I shall force you to talk!"

"Really? Hahaha! What will you do to me, mortal? Imprison me within an ancient fortress for eternity? I care little for your threats… a kinder tone might gain you more, methinks. You seek to descend into the bowels of this place… there is no chance of breaking the seal that reaches the lower levels, not while this cage and this spear remain here, imprisoning me. The magic that sustains them also sustains the spear, with my body being the focal point of the ritual. So long as I remain here, a prisoner of this place… so shall you."

"A lie. This demon seeks its freedom and would use us to serve his own ends. Why should we believe you? What proof can you offer? I doubt you have much to show us." Anomen folded his arms, glaring harshly at the large creature.

"Be that way then, knight." The demon growled, spitting a black, acidic glob on the stone floor that sizzled with the impact. "I will remain here, and so will all of you. May this place be your tomb. Pfeh! Know this… I will make no lie of the fact that I would like nothing better than to flay the skin from your body and suck the marrow from your bones. But you cannot proceed without freeing me, and I would be a fool to give up such an opportunity… here is my offer. Release me from this place and I shall swear to let you pass unmolested. Do we have an accord?"

Greywulf studied the demon a moment longer, then glanced at Anomen. The questioning glance said everything, and the squire huffed in frustration as the four of them turned and strode back to the room that had led to the large chamber from the first level of the Keep, hiding them from the demon's gaze and goading. As soon as they were out of sight, Anomen pointed at Greywulf, shaking his head defiantly. "No. Tell me you are not considering believing this foul creature's story. Look at it! It will say anything to find its freedom- an oath from a demon is worth no more than the tab of a drunkard at the Copper Coronet."

"I told you, didn't I? That this was going to be a pain in the ass?" Greywulf gestured back towards the open chamber. "Look… the spear that's impaling the demon to the wall- it's radiating magic. I can feel the aura from back here, and I bet Nalia can too. The seal on the floor, the cage around the demon… all of it has the same aura. They're connected somehow. I don't know if he's lying, per se… but it wouldn't be too big a stretch, would it? It wouldn't exactly be a stretch for this place, would it?"

Anomen sighed, rubbing his forehead with a closed fist. Finally he put his hand to his mouth, rubbing his beard instead. "Damn. This will… complicate matters, if it ends as we all know it will."

"I do not recognize the demon within… it appears to be a Balor, but no books have ever described a Balor with such peculiar characteristics." Reynald frowned, gesturing toward the open chamber with his long sword. "Some kind of twisted variant?"

"Probably a thrall that was altered by magic." Nalia shook her head. "It is said that if a mage is able to enslave a demon, their bodies make excellent focal points for ritual spells due to the innate magics within them. And if a wizard is powerful enough… they might even attempt to control the very characteristics of the creature, to make them more pliable to the ritual they are intended for. In this case, I would think there are strong Chromatic magics at work."

"I see…" Reynald paused, obviously not quite certain of what exactly Nalia's words meant. "T'will be more dangerous then?"

"Absolutely." Nalia smirked.

"Hey, if you wanted easy, you should have been a… a baker, or something like that. Although I hear that finding the perfect pie crust is one of the most difficult tasks in Faerun…" Greywulf mused as he peered back into the circular chamber, examining the four hallways. "No? Not funny? Down to business then, I suppose. Anomen, what's our move? Up to you…"

"So it is. We have little choice, it seems. Exploring the rest of this area might provide some insight into what freeing that demon will entail, or perhaps an alternate path entirely." Anomen paused for a moment, finally nodding to the others and walking back into the presence of the Chromatic beast. "Ah… this shan't be fun. Demon! You spoke of a way to free you and open the path to the deeper levels of Watcher's Keep… tell us how to do this."

A wicked, drool splattered smile crossed the Chromatic Demon's features, and Greywulf couldn't help but feel once again…this was all going to be one giant pain in the ass.

X

Minsc stepped over the top of the peak in the path of the crevice leading through the mountain range into the Amkethran desert, the sudden breeze coming sweeping over the top cooling the sheen of sweat across his bald head. From here, it was a rough, goat's path downward across several rocky handholds and platforms, but definitely doable on the way to the desert. Upon their final descent, the rocky path took a sharp decline, becoming more a slide than path, dotted with small pieces of rubble and sand covered boulders. It would be hellish travel, doable but slow, unless of course one were to lose their footing… in which case, a quick drop and a sudden stop might be a more appropriate turn of phrase.

"Please my friend, keep us moving. There is little time to waste." Cernd slid past Minsc on the path, brushing Minsc's shoulder as he moved, brow knit with purpose. The druid had been on edge since he'd claimed to have sensed… something, or perhaps somethings, on the way towards Amkethran. He had been rather tightlipped, but none of the others had the kind of connection to nature that Cernd boasted, not even Jaheira. While she may have been more proficient with martial affairs, Cernd had her bested when it came to the druid spells and powers that her kind wielded.

"Do you sense anything? Anything at all?" Aerie asked Jaheira as the two of them pushed over the top of the crevice, finally starting their descent as well, following Minsc and Cernd's lead. Viconia was at the rear, her hood firmly in place to help shield her from the noonday sun that beat down upon them.

"I… I do not. Some small disturbance in the air, perhaps. But that could be anything- it might simply be a storm coming, though I see no clouds gathering." Jaheira offered, her boot landing on a small rock that immediately dislodged, nearly felling her as a skid of pebbles and dust tumbled past Minsc. "Damn, this path is more treacherous than I had imagined. I shall be glad when we have reached solid ground again."

"I… ugh… I think I'm with you on that." Aerie grit her teeth, blinking sweat from eyes as she attempted to ignore the growing number of pebbles that were lodged under her foot inside her leather boots. After the last all day journey through the mountain pass leading from Athkatla to De'Arnise Keep, she'd swapped her mage sandals for some more protective footwear. It helped… some. "As long as we can get there before… whatever Cernd senses shows up."

"If he is even right." Viconia murmured, taking the path slower, more deliberately than the others. Her time spent in the Underdark made her accustomed to such rocky terrain, and her time spent on the surface in the past months had kept her from being disoriented by the height and open space. "I do not doubt his ability, I merely point out the obvious. There is no sign of pursuit- we would have noticed by now if there were. Only fools would attempt to traverse this route at speed."

Aerie was about to point out the fact that they were, in fact, attempting to do the very thing, but a knowing smirk from the drow drew a grimace from the Avariel and a quick bite down on the words she'd been about to say. Unfortunately, that small bit of distraction was just enough to cause Aerie to miss her footing- the next step she took landed right where Jaheira's last miniature landslide had left several unstable rocks- her foot sent them scuttling and her momentum took her straight down the hill. Jaheira shouted a warning and attempted to reach out and grab her arm- too late. Her nimble hand was just too slow to catch Aerie's flailing arm as the elf slid faster and faster, down towards Minsc and Cernd.

Aerie's eyes widened in shock as she slid faster and faster, heading towards the abrupt drop off that would take them to the desert sands in earnest- but the several hundred feet of drop would most definitely be a fall she was unwilling to bear. Magic… some kind of magic could help, but the focus would simply not come- a firm hand snagged the back of her robe even as she snapped to a halt, the fabric of that robe tearing just a little from the abrupt pause. Aerie breathed a deep sigh of relief, looking up at Minsc's worried features, his strong grip holding tight to her cloak. He gently helped her to her feet, brushing some of the rocks and dirt that clung to her- as if it would really get her clean until they'd left this place entirely. Aerie sighed, wiping her face and leaving streaks of grime across her face. "Still watching out for me?"

Minsc smiled gently, resting his hands on her shoulders. "You need fear nothing while Minsc is here. I will *always* protect you."

Aerie chuckled slightly, letting her frame rest against his, taking comfort in his care. "Thank you, Minsc. What would I do without you?"

The elf's question seemed to tug at Minsc for a moment, and it was unclear whether it was simple consideration of her safety or a flash of memory to Dynaheir's end, but the ranger did not answer right away. Still, any sense of hesitation he had vanished quickly- his face blossomed to a grin and a laugh, the big man tousling her blonde locks of hair as he pressed her tight to himself. "You would be even stronger than you stand now, little Aerie. When we eventually part, you will see just how much you have grown since we met back in the circus."

Jaheira let the smallest hint of a satisfied smile cross her lips, only feeling the slightest hint of pain from how chapped the desert winds and mountain air had made them. Cernd glanced back to see what she was watching, nodding in approval as well. Jaheira turned and kept descending, finally reaching Cernd, who had rested a bit while the druidess caught up to him.

"So… Jaheira. It has been some time since you and I traveled together." Cernd noted, pausing to make certain that Jaheira did not befall the same fate as Aerie when she stepped down a particularly steep descent.

"It has. How long has it been? Nearly twenty years, I think?" Jaheira glanced at her fellow druid. "I would not really call it traveling together, though… it was but a few scouting sorties, gnolls and hobgoblins threatening the grove. I am surprised you remember me at all."

"How could I forget?" Cernd's normal stoicness seemed to disappear around Jaheira as he visualized the events of years past. "I was but a young pup, trying to find my way through life with the curse of my blood, trying to deny all the ferocity that accompanied it…"

"And I ridiculed you for your lack of martial prowess when I had to save your life against that gnoll in battle." Jaheira considered the memory for a moment, cocking her head slightly. "I did not know the burden your bore at the time. Had I been aware-"

"Apologies, especially so many years past, are unnecessary." Cernd waved her off. "Your… challenges, helped spur me into mastering my blood taint. Hmm. Perhaps nature has a sense of humor, it would seem. You helped me with my taint so long ago… you do the same for Greywulf and Imoen so many years later."

Jaheira glared at him, thought it was done rather softly. "It is not the same thing… but I can appreciate the irony. You have done quite well for yourself… second only to the Grand Druid of the Trademeet grove now, yes? I am impressed."

"That means a lot, coming from you." Cernd bowed his head slightly to her. "Tales of your exploits would occasionally reach the grove after you left… whether by eagle or by hound, eventually the battles you fought always reached our ears. You did so much to promote the balance outside the grove…"

The hesitation in his voice brought understanding to Jaheira immediately. Of course… he could sense the indecision, the lack of balance within her. After so long away from the grove and similar places of nature, it only made sense that she was no longer as solidly set upon her ideals as she had once been. "I did my best… there were many creatures and monsters, human or otherwise who threatened the balance. I have done my duty and stopped them whenever possible."

"You need not defend yourself to me… we all have our own talents." Cernd shrugged. "I never could best you in combat… most of the grove members ended up on the ground when dueling you."

"They did, didn't they?" Jaheira replied with a hint of smugness to her voice.

Cernd laughed, nodding in approval. "There… I had wondered where your pride had gone to. You were such a lioness, even back then… it is good to see you have not lost the fire I remember within you. When this is all over, perhaps we should spar again?"

Jaheira was silent, and Cernd looked back to see Jaheira's face blushing red, and it only took Cernd a moment before he realized what exactly had caused it- druids in the grove were not exactly… modest, when it came to love and primal urges. There had been one particular instance when he and Jaheira had sparred… the battle had become more heated than usual. It was a memory Cernd had nearly forgotten… but from Jaheira's struggling expression, she remembered some of it a little better than he. "Ah… that is to say-"

"Cernd… I do not think we shall be 'sparring' anytime soon." Jaheira coughed, her green eyes flicking away from his. "That was… a very long time ago. We have both moved on since then… and I do not think Greywulf would approve."

"Of course, I meant nothing of it." The druid found himself unusually flustered, taking the opportunity to quickly change the subject. "The young sorcerer… of all of the ones he summoned, I was surprised to find myself counted among them. I do not believe I truly ever fought alongside him."

"Probably Keldorn's influence." Jaheira shrugged. "He respected Keldorn's word far more than he would have let on. If Keldorn deemed you a worthy companion, then it would undoubtedly be good enough for Greywulf as well."

"I could ask for no better recommendation… the paladin was a fine warrior, and a good man. I was grieved to hear of his death after Suldenesselar was retaken, although the cycle of nature is an inexorable one."

"True. It is an easy platitude to speak when it is not one of your own who has passed the veil of this world." Jaheira paused, no doubt remembering the number of friends she'd lost in so short a span of time. Gorion, Khalid, Dynaheir… with the strong possibility of more loss before this war was over. "It appears our path will shortly become less of a walk and more of a climb. Do you still sense the pursuit you warned us of earlier?"

Cernd looked to the sky, glancing this way and that as he let the power of his druidic magic stretch into his whole being… nothing? Impossible. He had been sensing these presences for some time, growing closer and closer until they had reached the edges of the mountain ranges… the nothing. He could no longer hear the acrid crackling of lightning in the clouds, no wing beats pulsing through the air. Whatever had been coming their way was no longer there… or at least, no longer where he could sense them through nature. "I… I do not. Perhaps it was nothing."

Viconia cursed under her breath for about the hundredth time since she'd joined this group, although most of the cursing had occurred after being split into this particular party. At least when around the Bhaalspawn there was the allure of power to be gained. Instead, she'd been stuck with the darthirii mage/cleric, the mongrel half-breed Greywulf had seen to fit to bed, the mentally challenged ranger, and to top it all off, a walking nature analogy in Cernd. Life had never been easy since fleeing to the surface, but this… this was quite possibly the most miserable she'd been in some time.

A faint scratching at her wrists reminded her of the state she'd been in before being rescued by Greywulf's impromptu teleportation of her to the Pocket Plane… perhaps she was being the slightest bit ungrateful. Not that she'd ever admit it to anyone. They were all so damn friendly with one another… it was sickening, really. The only one in this little group she'd felt any interest or companionship with was Sarevok… now, *he* was intriguing. A Bhaalspawn with a lust for power and anything else that he desired. That Greywulf had once bested him was a surprise to her… while the sorcerer was powerful, she would never have expected his ethics, his code, to have allowed him the strength of will necessary to defeat the Butcher of the Gate.

Unfortunately, Sarevok was off with the others, and she was stuck with these three idiots, and Jaheira. Jaheira wasn't an idiot… bitch was maybe a better word for it. Although taunting her and getting the druidess all riled up had become one of Viconia's favorite past times during each small segment they'd traveled together. Somehow, it never got old…

Behind her, a small trail of stone and rock tumbled down the side of the mountain cliffs that arched upwards around the pass they'd taken through the range. She glanced upward, raising a hand to shield her sensitive eyes from the blinding rays above. Was that movement? She honestly couldn't tell… but she curled her lip upwards and kept moving, still glancing behind her every so often. It appeared that Cernd was giving Jaheira a hand in beginning their final descent, the half-elven woman bracing herself on the remains of a rocky platform before it turned into a rocky cliffside, Jaheira's boots stretching downward to find the barest hint of purchase. Viconia absentmindedly wondered whether Greywulf would be *too* upset if she somehow accidentally nudged Jaheira on their way climbing down, and the druid fell to her death. Well, perhaps not her death. She was a capable fighter if nothing else, and while she well and truly hated the druidess, it was a good kind of hate. One reserved for a worthy adversary. Maybe she could knock Jaheira off the cliffside when they were just high enough to cause some broken bones. Healing spells would take care of the majority of the damage.

Another spill of rock behind her, this time Viconia whirled and drew her mace, already preparing one hand to deal retribution via unholy magics. Still nothing… but the rockslide had come from the clifftops above- Viconia snarled, knowing how much this would hurt- she threw off her hood and stared up at the mountaintops all around, trying to push away the blinding pain driving into her skull from the intensity of the sunlight. If she concentrated just hard enough, she could still let her infravision work, seeing the waves of heat within the entire mountainous terrain, a blur of red from the rocks that were exposed to the sun's heat all day long… nothing but a blur- no. There… there were darker spots. Cold blooded beings, showing up like vortexes of darkness in the haze she was able to make out… no longer in midair, no longer soaring through the air like Cernd had described?

Viconia tore her gaze from the sky, blinking away tears as spots blazed back and forth in front of her vision, unable to be willed away so easily. She staggered a bit, trying not to fall off their path before shouting down to the others. "Above us! On the mountain side- damn you druid, they took to ground!"

Cernd froze, hearing Viconia's words- he immediately reached out, letting the bond of nature he felt drive his senses through the rock and stone of the mountainside instead of into the air of the skies… and he felt it. Mammoth claws and scales scraping stone. Dust flicking one way or another through the air as tails swept back and forth, beasts gliding along the mountaintops upon their bellies, keeping themselves hidden from sight by any and all… but not anymore. As if on cue, perhaps alerted by Viconia's shout, several roars echoed across the mountaintop, and with a burst of wind and a blaze of lightning, a dozen winged beasts erupted from the mountain and took to the skies.

"Baervan preserve us!" Aerie cried out, watching in horror at the sight- a massive blue dragon at the lead, flanked by an amethyst dragon on one side, and a brown dragon on the other, all three massive beasts soaring overhead with a pulse of wind hitting Aerie in their wake. Smaller drakes followed behind those three, but behind them all flew another fully grown dragon, this one with green scales. Following it were also a dozen smaller drakes, each one glinting a different color in the bright sky. Their path was clear- no other destination was in sight- all of them were heading straight for Amkethran.

"We have to move! Now!" Cernd shouted, gesturing for Viconia and Aerie to move- Minsc had already begun his descent alongside Jaheira, the pair trying to go as fast as possible on their treacherous rock climb. Perhaps Cernd's outburst was too much, or perhaps their initial fly-over had lent them the vision necessary to spy the group, but the green dragon arced right and began circling back towards the newly exposed party, all except Cernd and Aerie already taken up by their descent.

Fll'Yissetat snarled as she spotted her prey- or at least, the prey she'd been assigned to track and destroy. The Geas she'd sworn to Abazigal kept her in line, but it was only the promise that he'd made to her, immortality at the side of the Lord of Murder when he ascended, that had given her cause to serve him in the first place. She was not a patient beast- though to be fair, none of her kind really was. Still, she'd been serving long enough, and seen no sign of the power that she'd been promised. All of that pent up anger and frustration was about to see release- whoever these pitiful mortals were, whether allies of the monk or simple travelers, she wasn't about to allow such an opportunity to go to waste. She'd been given command of half the Chromatic drakes after they'd crossed the mountain pass- Abazigal, Draconis and Tamah would lay to waste the majority of the defenses Amkethran commanded, supported by half of the drakes that nested alongside them. Once she arrived with the other half of the drakes, there would be no chance for Balthazar's monastery.

Her wings pulsed even faster, anxious to reach the prey lying so easily in wait for her- a wicked smile stretched across her jaws as she came to a halt, hovering right in front of the cliff face as she felt the noxious chlorine gas build within her, ready to spew from her jaws and suffocate those little mortals, helpless on their climb. The drakes swept down below her, circling and flying beneath the cliffside, ready to catch them in their jaws as soon as they fell.

Aerie gazed in horror at the horned beast, sucking in air as it turned fresh air to noxious poison within its chest. Cernd was shouting at her to get moving, but it was like the world was moving in slow motion before her. These creatures, scourges of her kin in the mountains… she'd prepared to fight dragons, all Avariel had, back in Faenya-Dail. She hadn't been one of the warrior caste, but every elven child knew how to use the mountains to their advantage when faced with a draconic attack. Combined with her magics… this was one situation she'd literally been prepared for since birth. The lack of her wings would make this more difficult, but… well, she'd improvise. Imoen had taught her how to do that if nothing else.

Aerie thrust one hand out, swirling it around her head faster and faster as the magic she possessed conjured a whirlwind around that arm, her robes whipping around her body with the intense winds… and just as the blast of chlorine gas erupted over the heads of her friends, she unleashed the wind, sweeping all of the gas back past Fll'Yissetat. The beast roared in frustration, fixing a gaze on the elf that had nullified her attack- with a spiteful roar, Fll'Yissetat flew upward, circling over the top of the mountain and crashing to a halt right above where Cernd and Aerie were still standing- rock and boulder went tumbling down, the elf and druid doing their best to dodge the flying rocks, but that did not end the threat.

Crumbling rocks slamming and shattering against the top of the cliffside broke pieces of the top off that began splintering down towards Jaheira and Minsc- Viconia was nearest to the top and took the brunt of it. A large piece of rock stabbed into Viconia's hand and she cried out with pain as her hand spasmed- she instinctively tried to get some footing with her leg but it slid off the rockface and she immediately found herself in free-fall. Jaheira had one firm grip on a small piece of jutting cliff-face, and with her other hand she snagged out, grabbing the drow's flailing arm- Jaheira screamed in pain as the sudden weight to her arm dislocated her shoulder. Jaheira's feet drifted from the purchase they found while Viconia's eyes widened, realizing that the only thing keeping both her and Jaheira from meeting a painful end at either the desert floor or the drakes below was Jaheira's right hand- already numb with the insane effort she was putting forward, the druid wouldn't hold out more than another second or two.

Minsc looked over at the struggles of his friend- he glanced up at the top of the cliffs, where he knew Aerie was still fighting for her life. The struggle tore through his head for a moment- try to reclimb the cliffs and protect Aerie? Try to save the two women holding on for dear life, just a few yards to his left? There wasn't time to dwell, only time for action. He prayed Aerie could prove herself as capable as he knew she was. Minsc grasped the small pieces of rock he'd been holding purchase on, and coiled his muscles as tight as possible. With what small leverage he could get, Minsc launched himself to his left, yanking Viconia from Jaheira's grasp as the ranger and the drow now found themselves hurtling downward, the druid gasping in exhaustion and relief as the pressure was lifted from her injured arm.

Rocks fell all around the downward flying pair, and Viconia barely had time to question the wisdom of this move- it had really only taken her from the danger of falling in seconds to a fall in the here and now. Had the ranger killed them both? It certainly looked as if it would be the case- headfirst into a sand dune from several hundred feet up- or perhaps not. It would be a much more painful death- several of the Chromatic drakes were flying upwards with jaws snapping, ready to meet their prey halfway. Viconia twisted her head to swear at Minsc for leading them to this end- not that it would have been much longer till she and Jaheira had met the same fate- but the smile creeping on Minsc's face made her think twice. He glanced to her and shouted over the rushing winds, "Hold onto me! Hold on!"

Viconia wrapped her arms around Minsc's broad waist, trusting the mad ranger with her life; as the red Chromatic drake neared, fire bursting from its jaws as it went to snap the head from the ranger, Minsc roared with berserker rage and power, bringing Frostreaver down in a two handed swipe to intersect the flames. The icy power of the magical axe swept away the fire and Minsc threw the weapon aside to reach out with his massive arms instead. Python-like biceps curled around the neck of the surprised drake as the two hurtling downward suddenly became three, corkscrewing and spinning as Minsc shouted, forcing the drake to fly downwards with such a heavy burden upon it. The ranger growled and twisted with all of his might, guiding the drake left, towards the hurtling axe- he snagged it with one hand from midair as they flew past, pursued by several other drakes, each one bursting with elemental power that Viconia could feel just behind her boots.

The time it had taken for Minsc to reclaim his weapon had given the drake back some semblance of control- it swept straight for the cliffside, intending to scrape it's passengers off by force. Viconia saw the maneuver coming- while Minsc had the brute strength to hold on, she would not be so lucky. Viconia grit her teeth, feeling the adrenaline flow- this was the craziest thing she'd ever attempted, and it was likely to get her smashed into the side of the cliffside… but if Minsc could do it, so could she.

As they came closer and closer, Viconia let her grip on Minsc's waist loosen, finally sliding off completely, her momentum carrying her towards the cliff wall at terminal velocity. Viconia twisted so her feet were facing the wall, and stretched out with all her might- the spell Merge with Stone was not a spell she'd used often, mostly for assassination purposes while still in the Underdark. Timing would need to be absolutely perfect- the moment her body touched the stone wall it would need to activate, and casting while hurtling through the air was not exactly an easy prospect.

Jaheira craned her neck up to spy Viconia flying through the air, about to slam into the wall beside her- without a sound, only a flash of light; she vanished completely, disappearing as though entering the wall itself. There was little time for consideration- she had her own problems. Minsc and the red drake were still wrestling for control of their course, and without Viconia to occupy them, the other chromatic drakes had turned to her for sport. Jaheira spat as she attempted to regain some footing, but it was going to be hard going… there would be no respite given by her foes. This might be the end- but once again, salvation lay in the unlikeliest of spots.

A flash went by her, and Jaheira's eyes widened to see Aerie soaring over top, suspended by two Air elementals, each one holding onto her as she directed their movements. From atop her lofty perch, Aerie shouted an incantation, and lightning struck the white drake that was descending upon Jaheira's position- it tumbled with the attack and struck the cliff wall, shaking everything around, nearly knocking her loose completely- that might have to be the key sooner than later.

Above, Fll'Yissetat leapt into the air and swept downwards in an attempt to chase Aerie's unexpected ascent. Cernd had been given a brief reprieve, managing to avoid the rocky debris sent his way, but Aerie would be unable to help the others if Fll'Yissetat was on her tail the entire time- another distraction was needed, and he was the only one left to supply it. A brief memory of all the time he'd spent learning how to control the beast he kept within him… every time he changed, he couldn't help but remember what pain he'd suffered in trying to keep this thing chained. What pain others had suffered when he'd failed. But these past years… he'd controlled it. Mastered it. The beast was a savior now, not a demon. And at least one more time, it would be used to save lives.

Cernd threw his staff to the side, staring as Fll'Yissetat's arc took her by his position- he ran ahead of it, waiting until it came side by side with him, right as the cliff ended into open air- he leapt, his skin splitting and transforming in midair as he landed upon Fll'Yissetat's back, digging his claws in as deep as he could manage. Fll'Yissetat felt the impact and some semblance of pain- she arched her back, starting to do tight loops and spins to get the beast off her back, but the wolfwere had an even better grip than Minsc. Cernd reared up for a moment, slashing downward with his claws, but mostly in vain. Sparks showered from the impacts of his claws on the dragon scales, but there was little impact on the beast itself. The back of the beast was just too well armored- which meant getting somewhere more unprotected. Cernd hissed and snorted with feral rage, then began pulling his way up the dragon's back.

Minsc had finally gotten himself into a position of dominance, his legs wrapped around the back of the drake, his hands on the wings, pulling the beast back and forth, directing it just enough to keep it from knocking him off. He yanked hard on the left wing, sweeping it back over towards Jaheira- the blue drake and the purple drake were both on their way to end her part in this particular aerial combat- Minsc's eyes narrowed as he felt sweat pour down his face with the exertion… no. Not yet. He pulled the wings back, hard- the drake soared upward before Minsc forced it down, a full nosedive heading straight for the ground, set to intersect the two drakes on their path to Jaheira. He drew Frostreaver, knowing that the lack of pressure on the drake's wing would send his course off- but only for a moment.

He slashed downward, cutting off the red drake's left wing completely before he leapt from the drake, his path sending him straight onto the purple drake's back, the pair tumbling downwards once again- but there was no way he'd get the beast into a similar flight as the red one before the blue drake reached Jaheira. Minsc felt the beast in his arms rapidly shifting elemental properties, trying to find one that would aid it in getting the ranger free- it abruptly turned cold, and Minsc could already feel his legs and hands turning numb from the frost it was emanating. Only a little bit of time- Minsc grabbed the upper part of the drake's jaw with one hand and the lower half with his other hand- Minsc shouted with effort as he began pulling, the world spinning around him until he heard that final whimper followed by a wet crack.

Jaheira glanced to her left, watching the rapidly approaching beast as her muscles screamed in protest, refusing to let her fall just yet… but her time had run out. The blue drake was already upon her- and with an opening of its jaws, electricity crackled in a ball of energy and launched at her body, exploding in power. Once more, the Harper Pin she wore glowed with protective magics, drawing the electricity within and leaving Jaheira unscathed- if it were possible for a dragon to look surprised, the expression passed quickly as the drake decided to end Jaheira's life the old fashioned way. As it swooped straight at her, claws bared, Jaheira finally released her grip, the drake slamming into the wall instead. Falling through the sky, surrounded by the screeches and howls of dragons and drakes- a writhing blue beast falling beside her and a maimed red one lying one the desert floor, most likely dead from the fall it had taken after being struck down by Minsc- was this to be her final fate? No… not here. Not now. Had to be a way out…

Viconia erupted into view on the desert floor, phasing out of the stone wall as she gasped for breath- her neck immediately snapped upwards, taking in everything that was happening at once- Jaheira was hurtling towards her and would hit the ground in a few seconds. Viconia smirked- delicious irony, saving her most hated of companions… she'd never let the druid hear the end of it, assuming they survived the whole experience. She began the incantations, trying to make them as clear as possible, knowing she only had one shot at this- standing right beneath where Jaheira would hit the ground, Viconia stared up at Jaheira, shouting the words to her clerical magic- done. The split second before Jaheira would have hit Viconia, the Repulsion spell she'd mastered kicked in- unable to progress any further towards Viconia, Jaheira's momentum stopped almost instantly- the spell's power flung her to the side instead, rolling across the desert floor with far too much speed to come out of it unscathed. The druid was unmoving, but Viconia could at least hope she was alive… and that would have to do as the remaining drakes split, half chasing the purple drake Minsc continued to struggle with in midair, half descending to strike their ground-ridden prey. At least Fll'Yissetat was still occupied by Cernd… but for how much longer?

The blue drake that had hit the wall in an attempt to devour Jaheira finally reached the bottom, scraped and bloodied, but still alive. It shook off the impact, neck snapping back and forth before hissing at Viconia- the drow wasted no time and swung her mace downward to crush the drake's skull, pounding it into the desert sand with three blows. A crackle of electricity arced over the drake's skull as it wheezed through broken bones before expiring- Viconia looked up to see the shadows of a green and a white drake coming down, making half runs at her as though deciding just how much of her power they wished to test. Viconia ignored the sticky strands of hair that clung to her face, clutching her mace with aching muscles and a snarl across her face. If they wanted to test her strength… she spat at the ground, shouting in defiance. "Lil'alur! For Shar!"

X

Running, breathless and winded, stamina all but drained in their attempt to lose- mostly, not completely- their pursuers, Solaufein sucked down oxygen as evenly as he could manage. The pursuit of the Tethyr forces was a bit more intense than they had originally anticipated; no signs of this 'Sendai' yet though. He supposed it had been a bit much to hope for- but then again, their plans were always a bit 'spur-of-the-moment', that much he remembered about Imoen and her brother.

Imoen… he was worried about her, but there was little for him to do right now. Her attempts to pull the veil back and unleash the taint was dangerous… but there had been no other way, at least not if they were going to go through with their plan, insane as it was. The forest terrain afforded them good cover, but if they were going to keep pulling the Tethyr forces along until they were in position to fight Sendai's army, they couldn't get too far out of reach.

An arrow hit a tree several dozen yards off of their right- perhaps they'd given up a bit more ground than they needed to. Solaufein turned as he ran, backing up in a slight jog- they were still in view, archers taking pot shots on the run. Solaufein spun again, leaping over a fallen log as he kept his stride high- battle was almost upon them, he could feel it. Sarevok was undoubtedly looking forward to it, but this was still too soon. They needed to find the armies of Sendai, and quickly… but they were out of time. A burst of fire exploded right in front of him, sending him into the air, arms and legs flailing as he hit the ground, ears ringing. What the hell had happened? Sendai's troops, finally?

A voice echoed around him, concern within- Imoen stumbled to his side, yanking him to his feet, but there they were. More of the Tethyrian army- and from the looks of it, they were coming from all sides. A trap- and they'd run straight into it. Somehow the general had known they'd be coming to this forest- did he know of Sendai as well, anticipate them coming to find the drow? Maybe. But when it came right down to it, there was no more time for introspection, no more time for consideration. Only time for survival- a soldier came hurtling towards him, blade raised high and to the left- an easy parry, if he could just get his mind and body working in conjunction again- Imoen saved him, blasting the man with a Chromatic Orb before he could strike.

The noise of the world around him finally seemed to drift back into his hearing… "-ight, damn you! We die here, we die for nothing!"

Sarevok's harsh tones spurred him on- he snarled a drow curse and yanked the Vorpal Blade from its sheath, beheading another attacker that came from his left. Imoen grinned, noting his ability returning to him- "That's what I wanted to see. Let 'em have it!"

Haer'Dalis was at lead, launching fireballs of… minimum potency, still keeping up the ruse of identity, but the fire was effective at least in keeping the enemy archers from settling in- at least until they got surrounded on all sides, which was seemingly an inevitability at this point. Imoen spun around a tree, using it as cover for a large two-handed swing that notched the tree but left the blade's owner without hands as Imoen sliced her short sword down and chopped the man at the wrists. She spun the sword back to a reverse grip, stepping forward and bursting three oncoming soldiers with arc lightning, their bodies spasming as they slammed into the trees all around. A jolt of pleasure surged through her body at the sight of those men dying… no. This wasn't supposed to happen so easily. All her mental defenses, her blocks she'd erected inside herself to keep the darkness at bay… one simple indulgence hadn't been enough to break it free within her… had it?

A Tethyrian soldier screamed, blood streaming from his mouth as he clutched at the massive sword impaling his stomach before Sarevok kicked him off completely, momentarily hefting the blade with one hand while slamming his fist out to push an attacker into a tree, splitting his skull on the tree trunk. The Deathbringer laughed maniacally, his roars giving the men and women charging him a hint of a pause. His eyes glowed ever brighter yellow, and there was nobody among them who was immune to the fear that emanated from the dark warrior.

"Keep yourself in check, brother." Haer'Dalis called out, ducking under an arrow headed his way as he clutched the quarterstaff that was supposedly his weapon of choice. "Killing them all isn't what we're here for…"

"Says you." Imoen smirked, before she even realized what she was saying, shaking her head as though trying to clear the flies and gnats of blood that were swirling around her brain. "Just… just keep on fighting, ok? We've got to get out of this place before we get boxed in…"

"Too late for that, Bhaalspawn!"

The voice of General Jamis Tombelthen erupted from the void as several dozen men flashed into vision, archers and swordsmen training their weapons on the party in seconds. Mages were tucked in the back, no doubt concealing their trap with invisibility spells. Before Haer'Dalis could do or say a thing, a Silence spell impacted the bard and two men had blades put to his neck. The general was obviously taking no chances of 'Greywulf' teleporting the group to safety again. To his credit… the trap had worked. They'd thought themselves so clever, leading the Tethyr forces to battle with Sendai and her troops… and the General had plotted their journey, lain in wait, and intercepted them. Right on Sendai's doorstep…

As the General strode to 'Greywulf' and yanked his hood off, his eyes widened, realizing that the man before him was not the Bhaalspawn he had thought he'd trapped. Tombelthen swung to the other three he had at his mercy, pointing at the tiefling with murder in his eyes. "Who the devil is this? I have you two, but where is Greywulf?! What trickery is this?"

_**"Let me out, Immy…"**_Imoen swallowed the laugh and the words that were coming unbidden to her throat- "Looks like you don't have all the answers there, General. Still, you did want to fight Bhaalspawn, right?"

The sound of buzzing filled the forest around them, and several of the Tethyr soldiers fell to the ground, drow arrows jutting from their necks. Sarevok smiled, a feral sight as he raised his sword once again. "It would seem that our sister has excellent timing… you brought an army with you, did you not, General? Perhaps you now have a use for it."

Tombelthen spun to face Imoen, his face a mix of rage, confusion and fear- Imoen couldn't help but smile, eyes rolling back in her head as she whispered, "Ooops…"


	33. Part 2: When In Doubt, Improvise

Sand irritated eyes, blurring in the miasma of bright sun and a possible concussion from impacting the ground so hard, tried to focus at her surroundings, tried to focus on the battle before her… her mind screamed at her to get moving, but the energy, the body would no longer respond. The druidess moved one arm numbly, unfeeling as she pushed at the sand below her hands to try and raise her upper body to a position where she could at least see something- she spat out of reflex, still tasting the grainy, rough texture in her mouth as she blinked in a daze, hoping for her body, mind, and will to sync up again sooner rather than later.

A shout in a hated tone got her attention, even if she still couldn't place the name or the face behind the yell. A dark-skinned elf was fighting for her life against two drakes that were making half-swoops at her, belching elemental bursts of ice and acid at her feet, turning the sand into an amorphous blob of sizzling mud and rocky crystals.

Viconia, that was her name. It was, wasn't it? The thought flickered in Jaheira's dumbfounded mind for a moment before vanishing like a candle flame in a windstorm. She ran her forearm across her face, ignoring the harsh feel of sand on sand, the burning of her eyes as she forced them to focus. The pain, the numbness was all pushed away with only one thought remaining. Protect. Protect them.

First things first- she needed a weapon. The spear she'd carried for so long, it had been strapped to her back when she fell, was it still there? The throbbing pain across her spine told her that if it was, it most certainly had been landed on- and there it was, sharp wooden splintering, a broken shaft that spoke to a ruined weapon upon impact. Working on auto-pilot, she yanked the weapon from its holster sling, gazing numbly at the half-sized weapon now, at least one-third of the wooden handle gone now. The tip was still there though, and the weapon could be used in a pinch- no time to second guess or think it over. Only time for action- Jaheira attempted to run towards Viconia, stumbling every few steps along the way but the movement had done its intended job, if nothing else.

The green chromatic drake broke off its dive against Viconia, swerving toward what looked to be easier prey, the staggering druid, dazed and weakened from her exertions. By rights, it should have been an easy kill- one of Jaheira's arms was sitting at an odd angle, the shoulder still dislocated from catching Viconia's initial descent down the cliff. It was mostly useless at this point, but somewhere in Jaheira's unconscious mind, the pain had been blocked out. Adrenaline? The concussion deadening her nerves and senses? Maybe. Either way, Jaheira watched the drake swerve her way, wing beats carrying it in a smooth arc upwards, preparing to dive straight down upon her as acid began foaming at its jaws.

A charging opponent, normally something to analyze and develop a tactic to counter, something Jaheira was quite good at. She had a head for tactics, treated it like chess. Counter, counter, strike. And yet… nothing in her brain was capable of anything more than survival instinct at this point. Jaheira tossed the broken spear she was carrying up with one hand, catching it in a throwing grip mid-air. A splash of acid was suddenly hurtling toward her ahead of the beast itself- no momentum to dodge forward, she was caught completely flat-footed. The only thing she could do was let her legs buckle completely, dropping to the ground and watching as the ball of corrosive liquid landed behind her, only just hearing the sound of acid fusing with sand behind her. Even as she fell, her right arm hurled the spear with a sidearm toss, the broken weapon hurtling through the air like a poorly tossed stone, wavering and wobbling with the effort. It missed the drake handily, but the drake took a moment of hesitation with the attack, giving itself a bit of a wider berth as it continued to dive. A moment- just a moment, but enough.

Jaheira's hand had drifted down, taking hold of a single, unbroken vial that had been strapped to her waist. The other three slots on her belt loops were filled with shards of glass, stains of a blue and green hue all across the front of her pants and tunic where her potions had shattered. This last one was all she needed- the fluid cooled, soothed, energized- Jaheira's half-lidded eyes flashed open as the healing potion began to do its work in her body- she immediately flung the empty vial at the beast as it descended upon her completely, the vial shattering in the drake's face, making it howl with the impact. She rolled to one side, biting back a scream as she felt the pressure on her bad shoulder- she tried to stagger to her feet, but the sand tripped up her footing, sending her back down in a seated fall again, the drake snapping and hissing as it shook off the glass in its face, turning to skitter across the sands at her with jaws wide open in anticipation of the meal awaiting it.

Weapon check- Jaheira's mind was clear enough to take stock. Her large elven dagger, still at her side. Jaheira unsheathed it in a sweeping motion, the glint of the blade reflecting in the drake's eyes as she brandished it, trying to show no fear. If it were enough to make the green drake pause, the beast did not show it. It snapped, hissed, preparing to charge… right before Minsc drove the purple drake he'd been riding straight down atop the green drake, rolling off in a tumble of blood and metal. Minsc slowly climbed to his feet with more effort than the big man usually needed, long cuts and scrapes from his impacts with the rock walls and the jaws of his mount lining his arms and face.

"Minsc…" Jaheira gasped, resting one hand on the ranger's shoulder. "The others...?"

The ranger slid Frostreaver back into the sheath it rested in, then yanked the Vorpal Sword from its home, gripping it tightly as he pointed upwards. "There." He said in a voice far too tight for his usually jovial nature. Even as Jaheira looked up, she knew what threatened her friend's temperament, what scared him more than a thousand drakes descending upon them at once.

Aerie, Minsc's witch... she swept through the air, narrowly avoiding the jaws of Fll'Yissetat as the green dragon corkscrewed, half trying to destroy its flying elven opponent and half trying to shake off the death grip that Cernd had on its back whilst in wolfwere form. Aerie was still being carried by the two air elementals she'd summoned, and every now and then she'd get enough breathing room to throw a spell into the dragon's face, but it was slow going, especially with a few of the remaining drakes moving to help their larger commander.

Speaking of the drakes- Aerie's stomach fell as she spotted two of them coming at her from below, spitting fire and ice in equal measures, the elemental bursts catching the tail of one of her flying servants, sending it tumbling with the impact-she felt half her body descend into free-fall for a moment before a mental command had her servant grab her waist and hold her aloft, the second air elemental already being swooped on completely by the two drakes that had caught it in the first place. It was gone within moments, banished back to its home plane, but leaving Aerie significantly slowed- she commanded her servant to fly her lower, closer to the ground and the drakes below- there. The one Viconia was facing- it had just knocked the drow off her feet with a swipe of the tail, leaving her sputtering sand from her mouth, cursing the death that awaited- Aerie descended like a goddess of the wind, blonde hair blowing all around as she let lightning dance from her fingertips, arcing over the drake once, twice, then a third bolt that left a smoking crater in the white drake's chest and glass instead of sand where the lightning bolt had struck through the now slain beast.

A mighty roar from above grabbed everyone's attention- Cernd had managed to crawl all the way from the lower back of Fll'Yissetat's body to the upper neck, and was tearing into the softer flesh around the dragon's face with claws and teeth, sending Fll'Yissetat into a sweeping rush toward the cliffside, trying desperately to dislocate this beast that had suddenly become much more than a simple annoyance. Cernd's mind was still there, if muted behind the haze of rage and ferocity that overtook him whenever he allowed his blood curse to take hold- he could only let instinct react at this point in the battle. There was simply no way his consciousness could move quickly enough to fight the beast he'd latched himself upon- twice now the dragon had driven straight up, stretching even the mighty muscles of the wolfwere to exhaustion in an attempt to hold on, only for Fll'Yissetatto then dive bomb straight down. Still, he'd hurt the creature and that was something. Blood in the eyes would partially blind the monster if he could keep up the offense, but that was looking less and less likely. Another opening- there. He dragged his claws across the side of Fll'Yissetat's neck, but by letting go with one claw, a sharp bank to the left shook his other grip loose, letting him tumble past the neck in a spiral to the ground. No… not yet.

The claw that was digging into Fll'Yissetat's neck caught for a moment, swinging him around to latch onto the dragon's neck with all four limbs as he bit and tore with his teeth, keeping up the attack for as long as he dared- the dragon would throw him off in a moment- there. Massive claws were moving to tear him into pieces so he jumped, launching off the beast toward two waiting drakes. He fell through a hail of fire and ice, feeling his fur scorch and his body freeze- the wolfwere's inherent resistance to magic would help, as would his regenerative capabilities, but there was still only so much his body could take- the impact of his body hitting the sand was like a small meteor, sending blood stained fur and sand flying all around the crater he'd formed upon landing. The wolfwere inside gurgled, shuddering a bit as it lay still, chest still rising and falling with breath, but little else.

Aerie watched Cernd land with rage- the others were moving to flank the crater, to protect him from harm- she was the only one left that could give them time to recover. Fll'Yissetat was still sweeping across the sky in a rage, and there were four drakes left- two that were trailing in Fll'Yissetat's wake, and the two that had killed her air elemental and quite possibly Cernd. They'd been around for far too long… Aerie called upon the destructive magics she usually spurned, feeling her own life essence ebb with the summoning of such a deadly spell. As the Horrid Wilting skull began to materialize in her hand, numbing all feeling in her palm, she hurled it without thought, magically guiding it to the point right between the two drakes she'd aimed for- it detonated in a cloud of magical vapor and dust, leaving nothing but two husks to fall to the ground, bones and skin that flaked away in the wind.

Two down… three to go. Aerie gazed up at the trio of draconic beasts that were finishing up an arc through the sky, preparing to sweep back down towards her as she floated in mid-air, the vanguard of her company. Time seemed to slow as her blue eyes traced the path the dragons would take, the descent they would make upon her and all her possible escape routes. This was never a battle she had practiced fighting alone, back in Faenya-Dail… but that was just it. She wasn't alone. Never had been.

Aerie let her aerial servant descend, bringing her back to the ground as she pointed to the sky, glancing back at the other members of the party with fire in her eyes and a commanding presence she'd never felt before. "Here they come! Minsc, protect me! Viconia, the drakes! I will bring the creature down- Jaheira, you keep it that way!"

She'd barely yelled her commands before the dragons were upon them- Aerie began casting, keeping her eyes shut as she did, knowing that the her concentration was all that mattered- anything else would break her, if not everyone. The magics she looked to summon were great and terrible… and all she could ask was a few more seconds. Just a few more. Minsc stepped before his charge, facing down the approaching maw of Fll'Yissetat- his eyes widened as he saw the noxious gas beginning to build in the creature's throat. Nothing he could do to protect Aerie from that… at least, not as he was. Not like this. He steeled himself, then charged forward, rushing to meet the dragon halfway across the sand dunes- the dragon's breath ignited early, consuming him in the gas that burned his eyes, his nostrils as he tried desperately to hold his breath. He shut his eyes tightly rather than risk blindness, remembering where the dragon was, praying his timing would be correct- he halted his advance, lowered his body weight and swung the Vorpal sword in an arc across his body. The sound of magic silver digging through scale and flesh rewarded him as he felt the mass of the dragon pass over the top of him, still hurtling towards Aerie but no longer as quickly. He had bought her all the time he could muster… would it be enough?

Beside Aerie, Viconia was making her own incantations. Ignored was the fact that the mewling cripple had basically barked an order at her, like she was a dog to follow blindly. And yet… she hadn't expected the elf to have it in her. Perhaps Jaheira wasn't the only one worthy of respect in this misbegotten crew. She allowed herself to smile as her magics finished- a Bolt of Glory flew through the air, impaling one of the drakes on it with an explosion of unholy power, detonating and tearing the creature into bloody chunks as the second drake howled in fury, swooping past Fll'Yissetat on their charge to strike the group down in a rage. No time for magic on this last drake- it would have to be the old fashioned way. Viconia hefted her mace and reared back, waiting for the drake to arrive in position- she swung with all her might, the force of the drake against the force of her blow sending both of them flying away, but as sore as Viconia might have been from the impact, at least her skull wasn't fragmented into dozens of bits and pieces.

Fll'Yissetat barely registered the death of her final consorts- all that mattered was the little elf-witch standing before her, chanting furiously, drawing upon power to strike her down. Her! Fll'Yissetat, one of the ancient ones, one of the most proud of races! Her divine magic would fail, just as so many others had, it was… no. Not divine magic she was summoning, it was arcane. Which spell was she trying to ignite? No matter… no matter at all. She was nearly upon Aerie- the jaws of the beast opened wide and prepared to close upon the elf-witch…

Magic thundered through the desert as two massive portals of magic appeared from the ether- large magical fists reached out, as Bigby's Crushing Fist spells took hold and two large hands grasped the wings of Fll'Yissetat, pounding the dragon into the ground mere feet away from where Aerie stood, her whole body trembling with the effort. As soon as the fists relented, Fll'Yissetat tried to stand again- only to be slammed down a second time. Aerie's hands were swirling in a large magic mist, obscuring everything from her elbows down, but one could hardly mistake her slender fists for the massive magical ones that were pounding Fll'Yissetat into the bloodied sand.

Beside Aerie, Jaheira was chanting as fast as her lips would allow, sending vines shooting from the sand and beginning to wrap them around Fll'Yissetat's wings, limbs, and every other extremity that could conceivably keep the beast grounded. The roars of the dragon shook her teeth as she continued reinforcing the vines even as some of them snapped under the intense pressure- had to keep it down. Had to- the concussion she'd sustained, while minimized by the healing potion she'd taken, was still there, and she suddenly found the world spinning as she tried to maintain focus. The sound of vines beginning to snap filtered into her ears as she gazed numbly at the dragon beginning to rise from the ground…

Lightning began pouring from the sky, striking at the grounded dragon, sending it flat to its belly again and again, leaving nasty scorched scales across Fll'Yissetat's back. Rising from the crater where he'd landed, Cernd stood in human form, bloody and covered in sand clinging to the sweat and blood running over his body, but his druidic magics remained strong, calling down the thunder with every word he spoke. It was enough to keep Fll'Yissetat down… but to finish the creature off, they'd need a bit more, just a little bit-

Minsc sprinted towards Fll'Yissetat from its left rear haunch, using his massive leg strength to propel him atop the back leg, then upward to grab hold of one of the spines lining the dragon's spine. He swung for a moment, ignoring the panicked writhing of the beast, finally getting his body up to where he could take a stand, perched at the base of the dragon's spinal cord. Raising the Vorpal Sword high, Minsc thrust it straight down, splitting hard scale and puncturing the dragon's back. Changing his grip, Minsc flexed his muscles and drug the sword blade up the dragon's back, cutting it all the way as Fll'Yissetat screamed, until finally he reached the head of the beast- he wrenched the blade into the air in a gush of blood before leaping high, coming down in a spin while thrusting the blade straight into Fll'Yissetat's forehead.

Fll'Yissetat's jaws opened one final time, chlorine gas building within… a final gurgle of blood leaked from its nostrils and eyes, leaving nothing but a scaled husk, no traces of life remaining. Minsc exhaled heavily, yanking the sword from the dragon's skull, his entire body trembling with the rush, the adrenaline of the fight- he turned to look at his companions… all of them were alive. Everyone had survived the fight, once again… and his witch. His witch was safe, his witch who had led them to victory… he grinned, laughing aloud, pumping his fist in triumph. He strode to Aerie, lifting her off the ground in triumph, spinning with delight and celebration before bringing her back down for an embrace.

Aerie smiled, feeling her eyes well up… they'd done it again. Just one more impossible task they'd handled here, together. She released Minsc, turning back to the others as she tried to control herself- there'd be time for further celebration later. Amkethran was still under siege, and there was a lot of healing that needed to be done- Cernd and Jaheira were badly wounded, and Minsc hadn't come out unscathed either. She opened her mouth to speak, then apparently thought better of it, glancing at Jaheira as if to cede authority or the lead of the group.

Jaheira saw Aerie's glance, then smiled, shaking her head. "Lead on, Aerie. We will follow."

Aerie smiled, mouthing a thank-you as the group moved to begin their healing before pushing forward to Amkethran proper- for all their victory here had meant, their battle with dragons was far from over.

X

"Form up! Form up, men! Battle lines, on me!" Tombelthen screamed, even as arrows whizzed all around him and the sound of battle was joined. Not the battle he'd prepared for, not the battle he'd planned to fight- this was an ambush that threatened to bring down everything he'd been trained and sent to do.

Before he could say any more, a dark shape came hurtling out of the forest, cloaked and armored, bringing a jagged blade down towards his head. His instincts were all that saved him- he flung his own sword upwards to deflect the overhead strike, sending it glancing to the left as he swept downward, cutting off a pair of wrists with the sound of meat separating in a slick flush of blood.

The body of a handless drow tumbled to his feet and he only hesitated a moment before ending the soldier's pain, impaling him and looking up again, only seeing just now their true enemy. Drow soldiers were scattered through the forest, his own men fighting for their lives as the dark elves pushed the advantage that their ambush had afforded them- his men were dying, dying in droves. Sun-treated adamantine plate gleamed like obsidian in the dark, and black-fletched arrows pierced the necks of many who fell further and further back, looking for direction, survival, anything.

Tombelthen tried to call again, but there was no time- a duergar dwarf, ugly and clad in iron armor swept a war hammer behind his knees, sending him tumbling to the ground. The hammer came by to crush his skull, but he managed to roll away in the nick of time, allowing himself to kick out, sending the dwarf stumbling a few feet away. It was enough time for him to get to his feet, nearly tangled in his own cloak- a hasty leap backwards allowed him to avoid another swipe from the dwarven weapon, then a downswing with his own blade hewed the dwarf's head in two.

A scream pierced his ears as he looked up to see one of his archers frozen in stone- he couldn't be certain with the shadows and trees acting as camouflage for everything within, but there was some kind of monstrosity floating in the distance, stalks and wrinkled brown flesh clumped together in an orb- there was no more time for him to try and figure out just what had ended the life of one of his men- he was in very real danger of losing his own. Through the echoes of battle, he had heard the telltale sound of a fireball erupting into existence- he'd heard it often enough in battle, from both his own mages and those he'd fought. It was like the sound of a large stone being dropped from a distance into a well, combined with the sound of meat being seared on a grill. Perhaps not the most verbose of descriptions, but it was all he could come up with. As it happened, the fireball he'd heard igniting into existence had been aimed squarely at his feet- the world spun as heat washed over him and fire numbed his senses. All sound was gone, replaced by a high-pitched whine as dirt clods and tufts of flame spattered the battlefield around him.

A hand blurred into vision- his own? A sign of the helplessness he felt, the sheer weight of the battle turning so quickly, so abruptly- this was not how it was meant to be. The Bhaalspawn would not crush the last hope of Faerun so easily… they would not…

Another hand clasped his own, yanking him to his feet as Tombelthen coughed, staggering a moment before looking at the face of Haer'Dalis, a grim smile across the tiefling's scarred features. "You…"

"Yeah. Sorry about this whole mess, but we did try to warn you." Imoen chuckled, pausing a moment to stamp out a flame that was slowly crawling towards their feet. "One of the members of the Five has an enclave around here- we were headed that way when your boys caught up to us- though we'd be lying if we said this isn't kind of what we were hoping for."

"You…*cough*…you used us." Jamis finally spat out, pushing Haer'Dalis away from him with a burning anger in his eyes. "My men are dying here!"

"Your men? You think that makes a bit of difference to me?" Imoen's laugh turned into a growl as her voice dropped, the young woman grabbing Tombelthen by the thoat, her grip as hard as iron. "I would sacrifice a thousand of your men if it meant surviving this war! I… I-"

Imoen shook her head, letting go of Jamis as she shook her head twice, trying to get rid of the invisible whispers that were fluttering through her ears. Sarevok watched the exchange with a knowing smirk, then took up what Imoen had left. "My sister speaks the truth. You want this bloodshed to end? Then do your part and give us a path to Sendai's enclave. Her armies would protect her from our wrath- you can prevent that. See to it that our path is clear and we shall rid this land of one more of our kind. Get in our way and your blood shall stain this ground. The choice is fairly simple, even for a fool such as yourself."

The general looked as though he would take a swing at the Deathbringer, but another sudden explosion rocked them, nearly knocking the entire group back to the ground, reminding them that despite their mutual enmity, they were still in a war zone. Jamis swore, then steadied his feet, pointing at them with a growl. "By the gods, I shall have all of your heads before this is over. Do what you came to do, kill the leader of these drow. My men and I shall keep them occupied upon the surface. But this is *not* over. I will see you pay for your crimes in the future."

"A noble leader, forced to side with those he hates for the greater good? Poetry in life, life in poetry." Haer'Dalis sighed, gesturing towards the western side of the forest. "My flock, if I may interrupt, it would seem that the forces of our quarry seem to be driving east. It would be wise for us to move past them unnoticed, methinks."

"Agreed." Imoen said, clearing her throat as she tried to regain her own senses and clarity. "An invisibility spell should do the trick…"

Jamis watched in impotent rage as the group vanished from sight, presumably to hunt down their sibling… not that it mattered now. So many were dead… even if they succeeded, his forces were so weakened, it might be impossible to fulfill his original orders now. The best he could hope for at this time was simple survival… he turned, grabbing a fleeing swordsman and shaking him back to reality. "With me, son! We turn the tide of this battle now!"

Even as the General of Tethyr rallied his troops into a force capable of standing against the drow invaders, the invisible party of four moved as swiftly and silently as they dared, passing by hordes of archers, mages and the occasional battlemaster, Solaufein found himself rather thankful that the magic spells used to cloak them covered the entire spectrum of light, preventing even the elves' enhanced vision from spotting them as they passed through.

It wasn't truly the drow he was worried about, in the end. They weren't what was on his mind- it was a threat much closer to home that drew his attention. Imoen… the woman he'd grown rather fond of. Her behavior was far too irrational, far too violent and aggressive. Truth be told, it was like watching Phaere's descent into oblivion all over again. The vision of Imoen throttling the general flashed alongside the memory of watching Phaere be tortured by the driders in the Demonweb Pits… no. He would not lose her as he had lost his first love. History would not repeat itself, not this day.

"There… they're pushing down from the northern borders of the forest. If we get lucky, we'll see the actual entrance to the enclave." Sarevok spoke in soft tones, a sharp contrast compared to his usual manner.

"Hope we do then- if we were going to root around in the forest and the mud to find a giant hole in the ground, we should have brought Minsc or Jaheira. Maybe Cernd, though too many nature analogies make me ill." Imoen's voice again… again, sounding far too harsh. Something was very wrong… Solaufein swallowed, tightening his grip on the two-handed sword he carried. No, things were not yet right with Imoen. Sarevok's influence was of no help either, of that he was certain. Could he protect her from him? Physically, perhaps. But she'd given herself to the darkness, if only for a moment… and it was gradually becoming clearer that she might not have come back fully, if at all.

Alien words and syllables erupted through the air, a mindless sound of incantations in a tongue foreign to most of them- Solaufein alone recognized the tone, even if he did not speak it. It was the language of the eye tyrants, a tongue that was hated through and through by his people. That the words were of a spellcrafting nature, summoning magic to form and shape was even more disconcerting. By their very existence, the beholders of the Underdark were unable to cast spells- the very resistance to magic that their main eyes granted them also prevented them from using magic themselves. The powers they wielded were a biological sort of energy, manifested from the eye-stalks surrounding their orb like bodies. Magic of a sort, but not the kind that wizards or sorcerers used. For a beholder to have access to their own innate abilities and magic as well… they were rare, but they existed. The Unseeing Eye that the Bhaalspawn had fought below the sewers of Athkatla was one such creature. Even as a spell that purged their invisibility brought them back into view, the source made itself known. Floating beside a drow warrior clad in massive darksteel armor, a beholder licked it's lips and hissed at them, even as white light began to glow at each of its eyestalks.

"Damn-" was about all Sarevok got out of his mouth before the Deathbringer was flung backwards by a ray of intense power- Solaufein tensed and raised his sword, pushing away any worries or concerns for Imoen's wellbeing. Survival would need to come first. After that… another strobe of light from the beholder and Solaufein slammed into a tree, his chest aching like he'd been hit by a war hammer. Yes… survival would be a good first step.

X

"Well… this kind of blows, you know that?" Greywulf remarked as he stood alongside Anomen, the pair staring into a large laboratory… one that was filled with noxious gas and undoubtedly lethal to anybody foolish enough to enter.

Anomen glanced back at Greywulf with a look of incredulity, before shaking his head and staring back into the room. On an impulse, he knelt down and picked up a small piece of stone lying at his feet- he tossed it into the room, watching intently as it came to a rest in the middle of the chamber… before beginning to bubble and corrode to a shriveled, sizzling husk. "I have made a decision… we shall not be entering the room as it is."

Greywulf chuckled, nodding in acquiescence. "As you say, then. I suppose any quest is never as simple as it sounds… especially if it's coming from a demon who has been trapped here for millennia. You ever wonder what he did this whole time to keep from going mad? Oh wait…"

Anomen snorted, shaking his head as he peered as close to the entry to the room as he dared, trying to get a glimpse at the magical machinery inside, any possible clue on how to dispel the noxious protections of the laboratory. "Should we fail, or lose that seal the Knights of the Vigil gave us, we might get the opportunity to find out. Hnh… the wizards who ruled this level of the Keep were certainly paranoid about security, weren't they…"

"Apparently, though I'd be curious to meet the mage who felt comfortable working in this kind of environment. Just because you can have immunity to a type of element doesn't mean it's comfortable to wallow in it." Greywulf poked one finger towards the apparently invisible barrier that separated the wizard's lab from the outer hall, somehow keeping the gases in. As his finger broke the plane, it began sizzling and he immediately pulled it back, shaking it and cursing violently.

Anomen noted the consequence of breaking the plane and leaned back, clearing his throat. "Well then. Unless you can think of a way to dispel the gases within, I suggest we try one of the other laboratories on this level. The demon said there were four, did he not?"

"True… though I don't think we'll be taking anything that creature said at face value." Greywulf grunted, resisting the urge to suck on his wounded finger- he'd rather not set his tongue aflame with acidic poison too. "Speaking of which, since we're all equally aware that the moment the demon out there gets free it's going to try and kill us, it wouldn't hurt to make a few… preparations, y'know?"

"Not very sporting of you." Anomen noted, but a smile crossed his bearded features, nonetheless. "But a good plan. The key will be releasing the creature first. Hopefully Nalia and Reynald are having better luck than we-"

The sound of an explosion echoing through the chambers was followed swiftly by the sound of something massive hitting the ground, shaking their footing if only just slightly. The pair did not bother speaking- they both immediately went into a full sprint, cutting straight through the main chamber that the demon leered at them from, sliding into the eastern hall- "There!"

Greywulf turned to where Anomen had pointed, seeing another laboratory, this one filled with icicles and covered in frost. Inside were two figures, backing away from a fire giant that was tottering towards them, the massive humanoid slowing, flecks of ice growing on its skin as it raised a hammer, attempting to crush the two little creatures before it- it froze solid moments before it struck, eventually falling to the ground in another thunderous crash, splintering into frozen meat and bone. The sight was disgusting enough- Greywulf resisted a gag reflex and paused a moment, waiting to enter the laboratory. He noted the reddish glow surrounding Nalia and Reynald- "Protection from Cold?"

Nalia nodded with a smile, waiting for Greywulf to cast the same spell upon himself and Anomen before joining them inside. Nalia gestured around the room, pointing out the massive vents on the icy floor and the domed roof, subzero air being filtered through each one. "This place was the domain of an ice mage, no doubt- we had tried to check the other laboratory down the hall, but the heat was far too intense for us to enter. Even so, several fire elementals and the fire giants you saw chased us down- we took refuge here, and our foes froze as soon as they entered- at least the giants did. The fire elementals took flight, back toward the fire laboratory."

"Nice work." Greywulf nodded to Nalia, watching his breath condense into tiny ice particles as soon as it left his mouth. "Maybe splitting up wasn't the best plan- shall we search the laboratories together? We're looking for something to dispel the bonds on the demon- a staff, or a wand perhaps…"

Nalia barely heard the words Greywulf was speaking- in truth, she was far more interested in searching the room, but more for the magical items that the former master of this realm had stashed than for the key to releasing the demon. The others were more than capable of finding that particular relic. The items of power that lurked here… those were what she was hunting for- a hunt that would go much better without having to explain her efforts to the others. She glanced at Reynald, the former knight still keeping her close. It… would not hurt to have him stay close though. For protection, if nothing else. "My lady… what is that?"

His words directed her gaze past the tables and rows of magical implements and experiments, looking instead to a massive machine that was erected in the corner, spanning from floor to ceiling and humming with magical energy. It looked like a furnace heater, but instead of belching fire from its innards, frost and wind swept from the vents on its sides. Nalia approached the machinery with caution, looking it over from top to bottom. Two massive globes were supported on either side of the top of the machine, each one electric with magics. It was completely alien, a mystery to her despite all the knowledge she'd accumulated these past few years.

"I have… never seen anything quite like this." Reynald breathed, raising one gauntleted hand to stroke the outer metal surface, leaving frost trails where he touched it. "I did not know such combinations of technology and magic existed…

She glanced to him, smiling despite herself. He was quite the simple man, wasn't he? His experiences with the Fallen Paladins, his banishment from the Order… all of it had made him into what he was now, a simple warrior who wore his heart and his loyalties on his sleeve. It was… refreshing. No guile, no political games like the majority of the people she dealt with every day. Her eyes drifted past him, to one of the wooden tables that had undoubtedly been the locale of several experiments in the past- for now, there were at least a half dozen wands of ice magic lying on there, unused and possibly still powered- either way, something to scavenge. Nalia circled behind Reynald, picking them up one at a time, before sliding them into her pack.

"My lady?" Reynald caught her attention once more as she glanced up, the guardsman kneeling down to peer inside the vent shafts surrounding the magical apparatus. "There is… I think, something inside. Perhaps you or Greywulf might be better suited to tell just what…"

Greywulf had taken notice of the man's inquiries, and wandered over to look inside a different vent- he squinted, trying not blink at the rush of air coming out that would have frozen his face if not for the protective spells around him- he smiled, looking at Nalia to see if she had come to the same conclusion as he. "I think we may have found what powers this whole lab… and quite possibly the first 'key' we're supposed to find. That right there, is the soul of a frost elemental… or several dozen souls. It's hard to tell from here…"

"Truly?" Anomen said, trying to get his own look at the shining object held within the frost engine. "It looks like… a diamond, perhaps. You believe it to be a soul gem?"

"It has to be. To generate this kind of infinite cold field, the power has to come from somewhere. Souls are always the first thing mad wizards go for. Trust me." Greywulf added dryly before taking a step backward, sizing up the frost engine. "The trick will be getting it out…"

Anomen hefted his mace and took a mighty swing, the mace head rebounding off the metal of the engine as a yellow haze rippled on the spot where his mace had impacted. The warrior priest sighed, shrugging with acceptance. "I had hoped for an easy solution, but it seems that nothing is simple. Anyone else care to hazard an attempt? It would appear that magic must conquer magic in this case…"

Greywulf and Nalia exchanged glances, then simultaneously began Agannazzar's Scorcher spells, the jets of fire that jumped from their palms much less fierce in the chilled temperatures, licking at the metal surfaces as the entire engine glowed yellow, the magical barrier responding ever so slightly to the elemental stimulus. As they ceased their spellcasting, the engine continued to glow, the barrier shimmering for several seconds before finally fading again. "Hmm. Trying to bring down enough heat with magic could take days… you said there was a fire laboratory down the hall?" Greywulf glanced back towards the exit. "When that fire elemental chased you down this way, you said it ran off?"

"I… ah, I suppose. To be honest, I was more focused upon the fire giant that had come upon us..." Reynald coughed. "I am somewhat unused to this sort of thing. Souls, frost engines, ancient magics… I fear I am out of my depth here."

Greywulf smiled, shaking his head with a raised hand. "Don't worry about it. Improvisation is the key… or at least, that's how I've been handling this kind of thing for the past few years. "If you don't mind, go take a peek down the hall and see if you can get a few more of those fire creatures to follow you this way. I've got a theory I'd like to test…"

"Indeed? I shall oblige- Lady Nalia? Shall you accompany me?" Reynald asked, the noblewoman nodding and escorting him out of the room as Anomen and Greywulf watched, taking a few looks about the room as they waited.

Anomen picked up a small crystal that vibrated with each sound, emitting a burst of frozen air each time. He dropped it, rubbing his fingers together to rid himself of the frost that was covering his hand. "How long does this protection that you've summoned for us last, if you do not mind me asking?"

Before the sorcerer could answer, a belch of flame shot down the corridor, dying out as soon as it entered the frost laboratory, but the forms of Reynald and Nalia slid into the room, nearly slipping on the icy floor as they glanced back at their suddenly alert companions. "I think we may have got their attention…"

Peering down the hall, Greywulf watched twelve separate fire elementals crawling over each other, the air a haze of heat and steam all around the creatures as they sped toward the prey that was trying to escape them. He backed away, hoping his theory would hold true- just as Reynald had said, the moment the fire elementals hit the room's sub-zero temperatures, the flames surrounding their humanoid bodies began dimming, slowing to little more than an orange crawl over their blackened flesh. The one at lead howled with the magical annulment, turning to attempt to flee. Greywulf pointed at it and shouted a word of power, summoning a burst of Magic Missiles- without the fires surrounding its body, the bullets of magic tore through it and blasted it into small chunks. An orange glow swept out from its body, sucked into the frost engine as the barrier surrounding it glowed bright again, dimming with the spirit of the fire elemental clashing against it. Greywulf smirked, nodding in satisfaction. "Take them down!"

Between blade, mace and magic, it took mere moments to slay the nearly debilitated fire elementals, freeing their spirits one at a time. With each death, the fire soul clashed against the frost engine, driving the barrier around it to a breaking point, until with the final death, it shattered completely, the metal surrounding the soul gem freezing over and becoming nothing more than brittle shards of ice that fell apart at the slightest touch.

Anomen walked to the machine, glancing at Nalia and Greywulf for approval. The two mages nodded and Anomen took a second swing- this one proved far more effective than the last. He broke through with a single swipe, revealing the floating soul gem within. He reached out to take hold of the gem, marveling as the gem swept over his hand like water at the slightest touch, finally returning to his hand but reformed into a jagged mace, the flanges composed of ice crystals and glinting like daggers in the suddenly warming air.

Nalia watched with appreciation and a small bit of envy- that was the kind of power she knew this place had to offer. She nudged Reynald, then called out to the others. "The heat barrier of the opposite room seemed to lessen as the fire elementals chased us out- perhaps they were part of the protective nature of the other laboratory? We shall investigate if you two wish to seek the other two keys."

Greywulf shrugged with acceptance and walked with Anomen back out from the eastern halls, admiring the cleric's new weapon. "Nice… I'm guessing it should come in handy for more than freeing our snarly friend over there…"

"Mayhap it will, at that. Though I cannot help but feel some sense of confusion… what was the point of this place? These mirrored laboratories, the wizards that bound the demon here?" Anomen shook his head. "We still know so very little about Watcher's Keep itself and the creature imprisoned below… I do not wish for us to encounter something we are ill prepared for."

Greywulf arched an eyebrow as they entered the western halls, turning to the opposite lab that they had not investigated as of yet. "Whatever this 'Imprisoned One' is, it shouldn't matter. If this scroll that the Knights of the Vigil gave us works like its advertised to do, then we won't even need to face it. We can trust them… right?"

"Of course… their order is a long and storied one, at least from what I have heard." Anomen coughed. "To be fair, they keep several secrets from the annals of the Order, but their orders were given by Helm himself. It is impossible to think they would lead us astray."

"If you say so." Greywulf murmured, looking into the last of the four laboratories- the entire room was taken up by lightning bolts that crackled back and forth through the air, leaving the stench of ozone weighing heavily through the area. Greywulf raised an arm to guard his eyes from the intense flashing, watching as bolt after bolt jumped from coils of metal and towers of iron that were positioned all around the massive room.

"A Protection from Electricity spell, perhaps?" Anomen shouted, struggling to be heard over the crackling echoes of power coming from within.

Greywulf nodded, summoning magic to give them both resistance to the energies within, then stepped through the portal- several bolts of power struck his flesh as soon as he moved within, but the magics did the job, leaving him unscathed. Anomen followed soon after, glancing around the room before laughing and nudging Greywulf.

The sorcerer turned to look at what the squire was looking at- a massive fan took up one wall of the room- and it just happened to be pointing down the hall that led to the poison laboratory, overcome with noxious fumes that would not only prevent their entry, but undoubtedly prevent their retrieval of the key to freeing the demon. "So… are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Greywulf chuckled, nodding with folded arms. "I'm guessing the answer is yes. Let's figure out how to turn this thing on."

X

Egeissag had to suppress a laugh as he watched his servant work- such a glorious sight, the powers of magic and the skills of an Elder Orb combined in a maelstrom of destructive energy. Not that he was planning on letting his pet beholder have all the fun. Egeissag brandished the long sword he wielded with his right hand, then adjusted the shield hanging from his left arm. Once he was certain that his weapons were secure, he waded into the fray, eyes glinting with bloodlust and the rewards that awaited him, should he succeed.

There… one of the Bhaalspawn he sought. His beholder had already knocked two of the man's companions out of the fight, but he had given the beast express orders to leave the killing of Gorion's wards to him- he was simply thankful that he had found them before Diaytha. The glory of these kills would be his alone- and it started here.

The sorcerer staggered back from a strike by one of the duergar that had accompanied him- a swipe of the quarterstaff he carried sent the dwarf stumbling backward, tripping over itself before an arrow launched from Imoen's bow struck the dwarf in one of the eyes of the helm he was wearing. He tottered for a brief moment before thudding to the ground- Greywulf was only given a moment of respite before he found himself under siege by another two drow- two more of his soldiers that would undoubtedly die in battle. Not that he doubted his men's skill- it was simply that he knew how potent his enemies were. How feared the Bhaalspawn should and could be- anyone who took the time to study their feats had no right going in expecting anything other than the toughest battle of their lives. Only a fool approached either Greywulf or Imoen with anything less than the utmost caution… and despite what Sendai may have thought of him, Egeissag was no fool.

A tethyrian soldier stumbled into his way, immediately lunging at Egeissag at the sight of another drow warrior, but he was nothing more than an annoyance to be swept aside- a simple parry then a shield bash to knock the man to his back. He walked past, pausing only a moment to plunge his sword downward before continuing his advance, never letting Greywulf leave his sights for a moment. The sorcerer was only a few dozen paces away now… so close to the glory he'd desired since pledging allegiance to Sendai.

Sarevok grit his teeth, trying to shake off the ringing sensation in his ears from slamming into a tree at such high speed- that beholder packed one hell of a punch. Not something he'd been entirely prepared for, and that was his own mistake. Not one he'd be making a second time. The Deathbringer growled murderous threats as he slowly climbed to his feet, looking for the beast that had sent him flying the first time- there. It was currently dueling with Imoen, from the looks of it. The two were trading magical blows, spells ricocheting off their respective shields, splintering trees and setting the ground ablaze around them.

It would be crazy to get involved in a battle where such destructive energies were being tossed around so easily… but then again, Sarevok was never one for taking the safest path. He gripped the Blade of Chaos tightly and began a war charge- a massive blow slammed into his back, sending him tumbling again, his face staining with dirt and blood. Behind him materialized a drow cleric, the priestess Diaytha, hefting a mace with a wicked smile. Sarevok knew that only the protective qualities of the Red Dragon Scale had kept him from a shattered spine- as it was, his back would be sore for days to come. He slowly crawled to his feet, Diaytha watching with a mixture of intrigue and predatory excitement. "So you yet live… good. I would be disappointed if the great Sarevok fell so easily."

"I would be careful what you wish for." Sarevok rumbled, straightening up with great pain- as his body straightened, he looked at the drow priestess, his yellow eyes flaring, glowing brightly as he called upon the Deathbringer training he'd undergone so long ago. "Giving me time to stand… the last thought that passes through your crushed skull will be regret."

To his credit, Diaytha looked unnerved- but then again, few could truly stand against the Butcher of the Gate and not feel some kind of fear coursing through them. Sarevok smiled thinly, raising his sword and moving to engage the priestess. Imoen would have to take care of herself for the moment- a feat he was more and more willing to believe she was capable of doing.

Solaufein was a flurry of motion, darting through the darkness as he engaged in combat with his former kin. Clerics, warriors, duergar… all of them were among the forces invading the surface world, and as much as he hated the reminders of his former life, this wasn't exactly how he'd pictured reuniting with the denizens of the Underdark. Driders, assassins of Lolth was one thing, something he'd envisioned having to defend himself against. But an entire army of his own kin… no time for regrets, wonderings about what could have been. He shoved his blade into the stomach of a drow mage, yanking it out in time to see a sword spider bearing down on him with only a few paces between them. He let his reflexes do the work, throwing the blade to the left, then the right, listening to the metallic sound of spider legs ricocheting off his sword until it leapt at him in an attempt to knock him off his feet. Falling with the beast left him straight beneath the slobbering jaws of the beast, the hair from its massive features brushing over him as it skittered back and forth atop him, looking for an avenue to impale him with one of its legs- Solaufein let go of his sword, instead grabbing hold of the two legs nearest to him- he grappled back and forth with them, pushing them back with all his might- another one came down and pierced his side, the drow wheezing with the sudden injury. His grip weakened, and the spider took the opportunity, raising the leg to strike his head- a blast of fire ignited atop the beast and it screeched, staggering off as Haer'Dalis lowered a hand, nodding to Solaufein with a grim smile. The drow elf staggered to his feet, immediately going for a blue vial on his belt and downing it with a single gulp- as the hole in his side began closing with the effects of the potion, he took up his sword again and leveled it, charging at another pair of invading soldiers.

As Haer'Dalis lowered his hand, he saw an approaching drow out of the corner of his eyes- a long sword came down toward his head, only just missing as he ducked in a spin, coming up away from the attacker as he flipped his quarterstaff to rest behind his body, gazing at his attacker. The drow elf spoke, his tones thick with arrogance and hatred. "So… you are the one Sendai has sought for so long. The sorcerer Greywulf… I will enjoy gutting you on this field of battle!"

Haer'Dalis let himself smirk- apparently his disguise was still doing the job, even if it was against the folks who really ought to know better. Still, he was a bard- playing a part came so naturally, it would be a shame to give up the act now. "Many have made similar threats- step aside and let us face Sendai, or you'll find out just how those people ended up."

Egeissag barked a laugh, approaching slowly with his shield at guard, his sword raised to strike behind his body. "I think not, surfacer. You'll find I am a student of war… and this is a war I've prepared to fight for quite some time."

Egeissag thrust his sword once, twice, then pushed ahead with his shield, forcing Haer'Dalis to retreat for a moment. Haer'Dalis abandoned martial combat for a moment, letting a Chromatic Orb impact against the drow general's shield, but the effects were neglible- he pushed in with the act of casting, closing the gap and forcing Haer'Dalis to take up his staff a second time, but this time he was too late. Egeissag's blade notched the middle of the staff, and a quick spin to the side brought his shield into Haer'Dalis' side with a crunch, pushing the tiefling against a tree, pinning him for a moment as he struggled to free himself.

"Hnh… far, far too easy." Egeissag said with a grimace, leaning into the impact to keep the struggling man from escaping. "I'm rather disappointed, actually. To think I spent so long preparing for the sorcery you were purported to wield- still, a victory is a victory, and I shan't waste it."

His words made Haer'Dalis smile- he twisted his body as best he could manage, just enough to free an arm to draw the short sword Chaos from his side. His hand had just enough reach to flick it across Egeissag's thigh, the drow howling with alarm at the sudden sound- he looked at Haer'Dalis in surprise as the tiefling drew Entropy from its sheath with his other hand, settling into a much more fluid combat stance as he stared the drow down. As much fun as performing could be… sometimes it was just better to be yourself. Haer'Dalis shook his head with disdain, "Tsk tsk… improvisation, my ebony warrior. I sense your mastery of that particular skill may be somewhat limited."

Egeissag's eyes widened as he raised his shield- Chaos bounced off it as the bard came at him in a flying leap, landing in a crouch that raised Entropy to deflect a desperate counterattack from Egeissag's sword. The bard went low and kicked out, tucking his foot behind the general's knee, knocking him flat on his back with an inglorious thud. Egeissag blinked once with the impact, immediately moving to regain his footing- too late. Haer'Dalis had one knee on his chest and one sword at his throat. Egeissag opened his mouth to protest, in shock at the unfairness of it all- who was this man, this imposter? All he could muster was a strangled cry. "This isn't what I was promised! The glory should have been mine!"

Haer'Dalis shrugged in response, sliding Chaos easily into Egeissag's neck with a squelching noise. "Ah… well, t'was not to be, I'm afraid. Some in life play the lead role, some play the understudy. You my friend, were simply not ready for opening night."

An unholy shriek echoed all around them as the beholder that had been fighting Imoen suddenly collapsed to the ground for a brief moment before immediately regaining its power of flight- it blinked once, twice… then launched itself away from the battle, coming to a halt above Haer'Dalis and Egeissag's body. Imoen cursed, moving to intercept the creature before it attacked the bard, but the creature seemed less interested in fighting- more in taking in the death of its former master. As Diaytha dodged an attack from Sarevok, she shouted at the beholder, "What are you waiting for, creature? Avenge your master! Slay them all!"

The Elder Orb turned to glare at Diaytha, its eye glowing brightly- a beam shot from it that struck the drow, eliciting a scream from her before it was silenced abruptly, leaving nothing behind but a stone statue, forever frozen in petrified horror at being betrayed so quickly. Sarevok gazed at the beholder's handiwork for a moment, then grunted with effort as he shattered what had once been Diaytha, the Sword of Chaos cutting through the rock easily.

_"Finally… so many years under the thrall of that accursed little mortal- my only regret is that I was unable to slay him myself and had to settle for the female." _The Elder Orb seethed, speaking common in a throaty, nearly unintelligible tone. _"As much fun as it was to watch you fools slaughter one another, I will be taking my leave. Still, I suppose I owe you a small debt for freeing me from their service. You seek to kill the rest of the darklings?"_

"That's right…" Imoen said between breaths, still regarding the creature she'd been dueling seconds ago with suspicion and unease.

_"Then I know where you can go to continue the slaughter." _The Elder Orb cackled, its laugh like a hacking cough in the middle of winter. _"I will show you the way… my fondest wish would be that you all kill each other off for the indignities I have suffered."_

The four exchanged glances before nodding to the Elder Orb, moving to follow the monstrous creature, Solaufein shaking his head with disbelief. "We'll be happy to oblige, I suppose. Lead on."


	34. Part 2: Down the Rabbit Hole

When a dragon flies over a city, or a town, those living below have described the sound as like a drum beat, a thumping of the air as the massive wings of the draconic creatures swoop over their prey. The sun gets blotted out by the massive, sweeping body of the beast- like an eclipse moving in and out of the sun's path. For those closest to the dragon's swoops to ensnare people or animals, it was a blast of force nearly capable of knocking a fully-grown man to the ground.

Above the desert fortress of Amkethran, there were three such beasts circling the walls and structures, descending upon the defenders of the city- for them it was as if there was a gale hurricane that tossed them to and fro. For every armored defender, every mercenary and soldier defending the city, they found themselves barely able to stand- only the monks of the city had the necessary balance to withstand the wind buffets of the great beasts.

In the center tower of the fortress, Balthazar clenched his fists, watching as Abazigal and his kin began their assault in earnest, darting in and out, trying to stay out of range of the ballistae and catapults that the fortress had for defense. Of course the city was prepared for an assault by Abazigal- it had been one of the first things Balthazar had done upon joining the Five and discovering just who he had 'allied' himself with.

Still, the defenses would not last forever. Not against a force of this size- the drakes were more than capable of slipping past the large, stationary defenses and bringing them down from within the city- once they were gone, Abazigal and the other two dragons would have no troubles reducing the city to ash. He resisted the urge to abandon his post at the center of the city, guarded by four ballistae and six catapults- it was the most defended portion of the city, with a half dozen monks and soldiers guarding each of the defenses- all wisdom pointed to remaining in the midst of it all, avoiding a quick and mindless death at the hands of a random piece of debris hurtling to the ground, or maybe a fireball launched from a dragon's mouth that he did not see in time.

And yet… the monk exhaled sharply, his eyes never ceasing to track the figures of the great beasts circling his fortress. So much for all his and Mellissan's plans- the wards of Gorion were supposed to kill the rest of the Five, then be killed by him. Or perhaps the Five would team up to destroy Greywulf and Imoen before turning on one another. This fighting between them- he wasn't ready, not yet. Not that he had much choice any more.

A blast of electricity, a lightning bolt arcing through the sky from the jaws of Abazigal struck a mud-brick hut in the villagers' settlements below, setting it ablaze as the screams of those cowering inside echoed faintly in the air. Balthazar felt his chest tighten, felt the anger that he'd worked so long to suppress rising to the surface. The others of the Five were right about one thing, at least. To murder was a great thrill- to murder a sibling, another Bhaalspawn- that was the throes of ecstasy. Abazigal was trying to lure him out… and by the gods, it was taking all of Balthazar's will to avoid obliging him. Perhaps he could get the half-dragon to descend, to face him in single combat? No… that would have worked on Yaga-Shura perhaps, but not Abazigal. The blue dragon was far too self-absorbed to risk himself like that. He would make use of every advantage he possessed to attain godhood… though perhaps that was the weakness he needed to exploit. If they wanted to make the dragon back off- they'd need to persuade Abazigal they'd set him on a field of battle he was unprepared for- a show of overwhelming force, real or not, that could get the dragon to imagine defeat lay in wait. The trick would be coming up with something convincing enough when in fact, no such solution existed.

Perhaps… perhaps not necessarily changing the conditions of the battlefield, but the battlefield itself? Yes… yes, that might work. A plan began forming in Balthazar's mind- and the means to enacting that plan followed soon after. Balthazar turned from the raised tower window where he'd been watching the devastation of his fortress, turning on his heel to descend the spire. Two monks guarded the stairwell as he reached the bottom of the tower, both snapping to attention as he arrived. "Send word to the smugglers den in the mountain caverns on the edge of the city." Balthazar commanded. "We will be setting a trap for the dragons within their little hiding holes- if the smugglers wish to keep their lives, they will accommodate our wishes."

Both monks nodded and departed to carry out their masters' wishes- Balthazar let himself smirk ever so slightly as he thought of the little smugglers and thieves who made their hideout within the emptied tunnels of the mountainside, thinking that their activities were going unnoticed by him- he allowed their continued existence, completely aware of everything they did- had they ever crossed the line beyond smuggling or burglary he would have had them all killed, but so far they'd been little more than pests. Pests who would now finally serve a purpose, even if it only meant using their homes for a dragon slaying ground…

X

The dark forest, at first nothing but thick pine and oak trees had eventually grown to more than simple trees but thick underbrush and growth that obscured most of the path before him- Solaufein grimaced at the memory of his time near the Shadow Lord's temple, imagining the vines and branches coming to life before them, reach out to ensnare and surround the interlopers.

While they may not have had to deal with living foliage, infected with shadow magic, there were still drow and duergar forces flooding upwards, pouring out onto the surface world- or perhaps trickling out would be a more apt description now. The beholder that had been freed from Egeissag's control was true to his word- it had led the group past the open forest and the war between Tombelthen's forces and the dark elves, finally into the dark undergrowth, the deep places in the middle of the wood. The beholder spun on his own miniature floating orbit, snapping its jaws and licking the brown, puffy flesh that would possibly pass for lips. Several of the eye-stalks bounced backward as if pointing at the area behind him- Solaufein frowned as he noted a structure like a troll mound, composed of rock and moss and vine, though the entry was large enough to accommodate several soldiers at once. This deep in the wood, it was no wonder the entryway to Sendai's enclave had remained hidden for so long.

_"There… the entryway to the little darkling hole." _It coughed, finally turning to eye the four adventurers with disgust. _"May you spill much blood before you find your end below."_

The beholder spat an incantation before vanishing into a portal of light- had there been more troops still exiting the enclave, it might have given their position away, taking cover behind a massive overturned log that lay opposite the enclave entrance. "Charming creature, wouldn't you say?" Haer'Dalis quipped, peeking over the top of their cover, gazing at the enclave entrance. "What do you think, my fellow travelers? Shall we take our chances in the darkness below? If our prey truly lurks below in the deep, we have little choice, I think."

"Perhaps… though we would do well to take some care before charging blindly into the earth's depths." Sarevok hefted the Sword of Chaos, glowing yellow eyes peering into the low light as if they could pierce the darkness with their own unsettling power. "Imoen… your thoughts?"

Imoen did not answer right away- Solaufein glanced sharply at her, noting her clenched fists, eyes shut tightly as though she was battling within herself for control. Solaufein reached out, taking hold of one wrist- just as quickly, a palm from Sarevok slapped his own hand away. The drow glared at the Deathbringer, a smile crossing Sarevok's face as he glanced back at Imoen's struggling features. "Let her be, drow. She seeks to find her own path, her own balance of power with the taint. I am… interested in seeing what my little sister will finally become when the taint has its way with her."

"That *isn't* going to happen." Solaufein growled, a dark rumble that would make lesser men back off in a moment- Sarevok was not to be counted among those with weak wills or minds. Solaufein's voice went to an even darker place, little more than a guttural tone, teeth bared in a feral, masculine challenge, a contest of alpha males erupting between the two warriors. "Stay out of my way, Sarevok."

"What is that I hear in your voice, elf? Concern for Imoen's safety, or something more? Yes… I see it in your crimson eyes even now." Sarevok backed away, standing fully to tower over the crouched drow as he knelt beside Imoen's hunched form. "You look at her with the same gaze Tamoko gave to me when I prepared for my own ascension… fear of what I was becoming, of the path I was taking her upon. Hnh… I would pity you, were I capable of it. Those who care about the Children find nothing but suffering on that road. It is inevitable… but try to delay your own failure if you must."

Solaufein watched with suspicion as Sarevok walked away, striding toward the entry to Sendai's enclave, keeping his sword at guard- the Deathbringer paused outside the entrance, lying in wait for any emerging warriors, a brutal death in the dark for those who would come late to the fight. Haer'Dalis watched the big man with interest, shaking his head in delight. "What a story our dark hunting hound makes, does he not? A lover killed due to his own lust for power, yet to give up that quest would mean denying his entire life's purpose. And to side by those who brought his original downfall, those who may yet achieve what he sought but by a kinder means… a more brilliant tragedy I have never heard. I shall watch our path by his side whilst you tend to our tender wildflower- though she has been growing thorns as of late, I think."

Solaufein swore, cursing the both of them as he watched Imoen's trembling form a few moments longer, finally grasping one of her hands and wondering if she had even been listening to them or if she'd been trapped in her own Bhaal-tainted universe- Imoen's eyes flashed open, warping black for a moment before settling back to their normal color. She gasped for air, clutching at her chest as she scrambled from Solaufein. "Don't… don't touch me-"

Her words cut the elf, but he ignored it for a time, trying to reach her- hoping she was still in there, somewhere beneath the taint fueled madness that was growing in her mind. "Imoen, please… I want to help you. What can I do- simply tell me and I will do my utmost, but I must know-"

"Know? What do you know? What can you know?" Imoen laughed, glaring wickedly at Solaufein from a seated position, looking at him less like an imp and more like a devil as she rocked back and forth. "I'm feeling just fine, thanks… better'n ever, in fact! That a problem for you, tough guy?"

Solaufein stood up, trying to keep a stone look on his face, trying not to show how much seeing her like this was paining him- it was an expression he'd learned to fake well back in his time in Ust Natha. "Yes… it is. You have opened yourself to the darkness, traded reason for madness. I would not see you become a slave to the taint within you, but master it."

"Is that so? You think it's that simple huh, just a quick flip and I can turn it off and on?" Imoen spat, though her voice wavered as she spoke, tucking her feet up and standing as she circled the dark elf. "And what if I don't want to? I feel just fine, thank you very much. All my life I've been living in Greywulf's shadow, the little nobody behind the curtain, ignored and abandoned. Heh- if not for Irenicus I'd probably still be taking a backseat during this whole mess."

"You don't mean that…" Solaufein began, only to get cut off by the increasingly erratic girl. She raised a finger with rage in her eyes, only to lower it, shaking her head as though trying to deny something else within her- Imoen spat, spinning on her heel before planting her feet, her back to the drow elf. Solaufein watched her struggle for control again, trying to find the right words to say. "Whatever you need me to do, I shall not deny you. I will go to the ends of Faerun before I see you follow the same path as Phaere… do not let this darkness strip all your innocence from you, please-"

"Innocent? That how you think of me? Heh." Imoen chuckled bitterly, looking back at Solaufein with dark, ebony eyes. "You don't know the thoughts percolating around in my little head…" the glimmer of Imoen's short sword illuminated the night as she rapidly closed the distance between them letting the tip of it rest against his armored breastplate.

"I know... you do not want this." Solaufein murmured, standing stock still as she leaned in, her arm muscles tightening as though preparing to shove the blade deep into his chest-Imoen swung the blade down and back into the sheath on her hip as her other arm yanked Solaufein's head down to meet hers, their lips connecting fiercely.

Imoen shoved the surprised drow off after a moment, turning on her heel to head towards the descent into Sendai's enclave, only pausing a brief moment to toss behind her, "You have no idea what I want. Let's get moving."

Solaufein watched Imoen's form as she disappeared into the darkness of the enclave entrance, followed by the others- he took up the rear, trying to clear his mind, hoping Imoen would be able to do the same when battle came upon them. Who had he just spoken with? Was that truly Imoen speaking a moment ago, or the taint through her? Some combination of both, more than likely- but it mattered little, in the end. She'd been right- he had no idea what she wanted. Power, to be rid of the taint… her feelings could be changing by the second, depending on who exactly was in charge inside that pink-haired head. What he wanted though… that was quite clear. He wanted the girl he'd known back in Ust Natha, in Suldenesselar back. He wanted to see that smile, that joy in her face back. He'd been in her light for too long- it drove some of the shadows he lived in away, and it was too much, too addictive for him to give her up now.

Haer'Dalis spared a glance behind to make sure Solaufein was keeping up as they descended into Sendai's lair- he was there, in body, if not spirit. Something of a problem, should they encounter their main foe right away. The big man would need some time to clear his head, reorder his thoughts. Not that it would take him too long- he was well versed in the arena of battle and knew what it would take to survive this coming fight- though it appeared he was much less comfortable in the matters of the heart. Oh yes, he could see the obvious regard that Solaufein held for Imoen… even if the two of them were much more oblivious. Perhaps oblivious was the wrong word- more unwilling to openly acknowledge it, rather. A more clunky way to describe it, but perhaps more fitting.

The glint of torches lining the tunnel heading downward allowed them to keep their footing through the descent, but it was hardly an easy path to walk- rocks and dirt clods tumbled down with each step they took, and there was no guarantee an off-placed foot would not send one of their company sliding to the bottom in a most unpleasant and- depending on what awaited at the bottom- unhealthy manner. Still, none of them took that impromptu shortcut to the base; each found their own footing, however treacherous, to the base of the path. It opened from a narrow corridor fit to funnel invading foot soldiers or armies into what almost looked like an arena- pillars surrounding the circular chamber, magically lit torches along all sides to give the entire area a flickering glow, as bright as the noonday sun with flame to guide their eyes.

And yet… something was not right. It was so obvious to one such as he, a planeswalker, one who had braved the gates between universes, one who had looked upon the gates of the city Sigil, who had taken up a residence in the fabric between the planes of existence. The planescape left a… mark, on those who had traversed it for any length. Those who knew how to see or feel such a mark would recognize Haer'Dalis immediately for a tiefling, one of outer-planar blood. Just as they could recognize him, feel his presence… so could the bard feel that of something… other, nearby.

Haer'Dalis unsheathed Chaos and Entropy without a word, drawing glances from the others as he stepped slowly, deliberately out into the midst of the chamber, his own breaths coming quicker, fainter, barely there at all for fear of deafening his senses- before any of the three he traveled beside could ask him what was the matter, the situation resolved itself quite handily. A pillar of earth erupted from the dirt and stone beneath each of their feet, raising them high and quick to the stalactite covered ceiling, a quick death, if not necessarily painless.

The tiefling was the most prepared, he leapt from the rising pillar of sod and rolled to a halt on the solid ground- if it could be considered solid when manipulated so easily- and spat a quick trigger word, allowing his limited spellcraft to take shape in a basic form, several Magic Missiles peppering the pillar closest by. The bullets of energy exploded the base of the pillar, allowing it to collapse and sending Sarevok plummeting to the ground in a metallic clatter of armor as the Deathbringer grunted in pain with the sudden landing. There had only been time to save one other- Haer'Dalis gaze snapped upwards, wondering if Imoen and Solaufein had been quite so fortunate or quick, though as it turned out, Solaufein was more than ready. Years of enduring assassination attempts by House Despana had honed the drow's reflexes beyond them all- he had leapt from the pillar as soon as it had begun rising skyward, coming up in a roll with his blade at guard. Imoen had been less fortunate- though her magics were not abandoned. She was at the top of the pillar near the ceiling, a blue globe of magic surrounding her that ground against the ceiling as the earth itself attempted to end her life. Her eyes were wide, the woman inside the magic shaking with the effort of protecting herself- if she let the magic go, there was no way she'd have the time to rescue herself or get off the pillar of earth. Getting to her would be nearly impossible with how high she stood above the others, encased in protective energy- but perhaps there was a way after all. Solaufein shouted to the sorceress, a wild plan taking place in his mind. "Imoen! You must trust me- when I give the word, let your magics collapse!"

Imoen's neck snapped around to look at the elf- her eyes were a roiling boil of black and white- could she even hear him? Was she even there? No time to wonder. Solaufein prayed she'd listen- he grasped the jade teleportation stone tied to his belt, focused his will, and shouted. "Now!"

A portal of white energy blazed to life inside Imoen's bubble, the drow leaping out of it and veritably tackling her as she let her spell expire- the physical shielding around them vanished, allowing the pillar of earth to erupt upwards as Solaufein's leap took them off the pillar entirely, tumbling to the ground in a painful landing, but better than being crushed and impaled.

No time for small talk or congratulatory banter- the entire group got to their feet, assuming a defensive posture, back to back, slowly turning as the world seemed to fade in and out, light dimming as the entire earth broke and groaned around them- Rock and stone, moss and dirt all seemed to explode from their feet, sweeping up to collect in their midst, scattering their formation as a great beast, humanoid in shape but composed entirely of the elements itself took form. Great glowing eyes were recessed behind slate eye sockets, and the massive arms were so long they dragged obsidian bladed knuckles on the dirt itself- the creature bellowed, not from a mouth or voice but from the earth around them- _**"You have trespassed upon the realm of Ogremoch, mortals. Submit."**_

"Alas, I take direction quite poorly." Haer'Dalis quipped, taking a running start to dive between the behemoth's legs, letting both of his blades sweep out to slice through the stone and rock with their enchanted edges.

The others needed little cajoling or encouragement- Sarevok roared in defiance as his eyes glowed ever brighter with the fury of battle upon him- he brought the Blade of Chaos in an arc traveling from behind his hip all the way across the top of his body and into the approaching fist that was moving towards him- steel met stone and exploded off one another as sparks flew from the impact.

Solaufein took a much more subtle approach- the drow elf darted forward while keeping his body low, moving around the edge of the elemental prince, thinking to take the creature from behind- as he reached the blind side of Ogremoch, two empty eye sockets and a gaping mouth of mud formed upon its torso, right in front of Solaufein's startled gaze, his sword slowing just barely at the sudden appearance. _**"You cannot take me by surprise, mortal. I see all. I am the earth itself-"**_

Solaufein recovered from the shock quickly- he jammed the two-handed blade he carried deep into the newly formed face, twisting it once before yanking it out in a trail of mud and dust. The lack of blood was… disconcerting. He took a step back, as if trying to decide where to strike next at the gargantuan creature, but there was little time for such contemplation. Vines erupted from the mangled eye sockets of the face he'd impaled, leeching onto his wrists and pulling him towards the Earth elemental as if to draw him into its very core.

As it turned out, that was not too far from the truth- Solaufein struggled mightily, but the strength of his arms and legs was of little use against the strength of the earth itself- he spat in alarm at the taste of dirt flooding his mouth as he planted onto the side of Ogremoch, slowly fading under the surface of the beast- just before the drow warrior disappeared beneath it completely, a blast of power sent several chunks of the earth elemental's side flying, revealing a measure of Solaufein's person, the drow elf half-freed. Imoen strode deliberately toward the elf, hand outstretched as she commanded arcane powers with singular purpose- tear Ogremoch apart. One more blast, then another, then another. Solaufein slipped to the ground, immediately rolling away in an attempt to get his bearings as Imoen continued her assault.

The elemental prince of earth groaned with the attacks to its body- it swung the massive bulk of its body in a semi-circle, large obsidian fists hurtling through the air to knock a man's upper half from its lower- Sarevok saw the oncoming attack and dropped to the ground, barely escaping the sweeping blow while Imoen launched herself into the air, just high enough to get her feet onto the arcing fist and using it as yet another springboard. Her form flipped high into the air, Imoen drew her short sword with one hand while chanting and flexing an open palm. Lightning blazed in her hand as she brought it down onto Ogremoch's head, splitting the entire creature's body with power. The sword in her other hand pierced the crackling, burnt hole she'd made with the lightning bolt- letting her momentum carry her downward, Imoen slid from the creature's head to the floor, dragging her sword with her until she came off in a roll, sliding the short sword back into her sheath as she landed, preparing to cast with both hands again.

Another howl of… pain? Discomfort? Anger? It mattered little, for despite Imoen's valiant efforts, the creature barely seemed fazed with her strikes. Another set of arms burst from Ogremoch's torso, stretching across the room to ensnare Imoen in its grasp- the thief-mage's eyes widened as she realized how quickly this could go poorly- a simple squeeze by the elemental prince and her entire torso would be reduced to jelly. Too much time to get her spells moving with both hands pinned to her waist… the sword of the Deathbringer sang through the air and through Ogremoch's wrist, letting Imoen tumble to the ground as the rock and dirt surrounding her fell apart as nothing more than clods and pebbles. "You cannot die yet, little sister." Sarevok growled, pulling Imoen back to her feet, the siblings exchanging a glare. "If Greywulf will not propel me to the power I seek, perhaps you will…"

His words were not quite the empty taunts they might once have been- but Imoen was in no place to really question their meaning or effect on herself. Another time perhaps- a time when their lives weren't in immediate peril by the living embodiment of the earth- Imoen grimaced, remembering the pain she'd endured when fleeing from Imix, Prince of Fire, within Yaga-Shura's mountain temple. The only way she'd escaped his wrath was a mountain-sized Implosion spell courtesy of Jaheira… not exactly an option right now. Her magic had barely made a dent on the beast- the wounds they'd dealt it filled and reformed seconds after they struck. It was all too slow, not fast enough. Imoen pushed another portion of her spirit into the formation of a Horrid Wilting, doubling over with the sudden draining of her life force- she leapt backward to avoid another seeking tendril of thorny vines, hurling the brown skull at Ogremoch's massive bulk as she descended to a rocky slide.

The 'whumph' of the Horrid Wilting drew Haer'Dalis' attention as he saw the vines reaching for Imoen wither and die, their bases caught in the blast of death magic. Another good salvo, but the play was far from done. Haer'Dalis flipped the grip on both of his short swords, crossed them in front of his face and ran towards Ogremoch's whirling body, drawing an X with them as he reached the section of dirt that was crumbling from Imoen's spellcraft- the dirt turned to dust easily beneath his blades as his arms swung like windmills, slicing and cutting, sweeping the elemental's body away until he had carved a veritable cavern out of Ogremoch's chest- the groan of the beast tipped him off to another attack, but it was too late to dodge. Rocks began bursting from within Ogremoch's form like a hail of bullets, peppering the bard at close quarters and sending him stumbling backwards as stone after stone struck him- a particularly large one careened off his head, sending the bard tumbling to the ground with blood streaming from the gash.

No time to stop and get the tiefling clear- not if they were to keep pressing the attack. Sarevok roared again, lowering his shoulder and pushing for the cavernous gash in Ogremoch's body, letting the rocks bounce from his dragon scale armor, raising an arm to protect his head as he struggled further inwards, reaching the core of Ogremoch's bulk, already beginning to reform- he ducked low, grasping the Chaos Blade with both hands in the moments before Ogremoch could compensate, then tore upwards with the weapon, gouging out another massive chunk of sod. He reared back again, channeling the powers he'd learned as a Deathbringer- the blow he would land here was enough to fell any normal man in an instant, of that he was certain. Enough for an elemental prince… that would be debatable. A glowing yellow light burned through Ogremoch's body as Sarevok cut the beast from top to bottom, and for a brief moment, all was silent.

Imoen staggered to her feet, Solaufein pulling her up as they edged forward, watching the two mangled halves of Ogremoch sway for brief moments, unsteady on what passed for feet- they both tumbled, collapsing and disintegrating into mud, sliding across the rocky ground. Sarevok smiled in triumph, turning to the others, watching them with more than a little pride as Imoen and Solaufein helped Haer'Dalis to his feet. "And yet another falls to my blade… once again I question the unfairness of letting the power of Bhaal fall to one of you instead of me-"

Sarevok's words were cut off as another tendril of earth erupted from beneath him, sending him into the wall with a clatter of armor as the big man tried and failed to regain his footing from his hands and knees. Imoen and Solaufein's mouths both went agape as the mud that had composed the remains of Ogremoch began reforming, sweeping together and swirling into the gargantuan humanoid form it had taken before, bright glowing eyes visible behind a newly formed shell of marble that covered the earth prince's form. _**"To struggle against me is to struggle against the earth itself. SUBMIT!"**_

Haer'Dalis' eyes fluttered open as he pushed off of the shoulders of Imoen and Solaufein, glancing upward at the maw of their foe- despite the danger, the bard could not resist smiling. Battling not only the few remaining Bhaalspawn in Faerun, but the Elemental Prince of Earth as well- he'd have quite the tale to tell in taverns all across this plane and beyond… assuming they survived, of course.

X

"Well then. I don't suppose there's any way around this, is there?" Greywulf sighed, resting on his quarterstaff as he gazed at the grinning Chromatic Demon that sat ensnared before the group, flames rippling across the red fur on its back.

"There is not, little fleshling… and if you wish to proceed further into this prison of the gods, you will set me free to wander the planes once more… how I find that fact so delightful when held up aside the putrid self-righteousness of the Helmites." The demon sneered, acidic spittle sizzling on the marble floors of the second level of Watcher's Keep- not that it damaged the magically sustained prison. If the demon's spit could have truly eaten through the floor, Greywulf had no doubt that there would be a hole leading all the way to the bottom of the Keep and some distance into the earth itself.

"Hold your tongue, beast, or I shall hold it for you once you are free of your bonds." Anomen commanded, leveling the jagged mace of ice he had acquired at the creature. Specks of frost and a small billow of snow seemed to be in constant flux around the head of the weapon- even putting a limb too near seemed to rob the offender of feeling. Then again, it was in fact a physical manifestation of several dozen ice spirits, so perhaps that was to be expected. Upon shutting down the defense of the other four laboratories, they'd found similar soul gems that had also transformed themselves into much more useful forms, so to speak. Perhaps they were attuned to those who took hold of the gems, knowing just how best the wielder would use it. Regardless, Nalia carried a bow which generated an arrow of pure flame every time she pulled the string back, Reynald wielded a long sword that dripped with acidic poison and smelled faintly of burning metal, while Greywulf's quarterstaff vibrated underneath his fingertips, a small breeze always flowing in and around the weapon, as though it would fly into the heavens upon a whirlwind were there not someone holding it to the ground.

"Would you, now? Hahahaha- not a very noble way to treat your ally, is it?" the demon cackled, shrugging and shaking its body upon the spear that kept it impaled to the wall- with each new strain the spear seemed to plunge deeper, drawing another spurt of blood from the demon's chest. "Erghhh… how I will enjoy being rid of this accursed place. This spear in particular- but why do you hesitate now? Use the spirits of this place that you have gathered and let us all receive what we desire!"

Anomen glanced at the others- each one nodded, even if there was deep reservation in each of their faces. The four of them moved to encircle the beast- not that there was any particular instruction manual that had presented itself, but such magics were usually simple enough to decipher. All four of them presented the weapons they'd gathered, and with a sound like rushing wind, thunder leapt from the chains holding the demon in place, brushing the elemental spirits that were kept in bondage, creating a feedback loop that shattered the magic holding the demon in place. It screamed as the magic bindings fell apart- the demon grabbed the spear that pinned it to the wall and ripped it from its own chest and the wall, hurling it to the ground with a clatter of metal. The creature hunched over with one red claw covering it's bloody wound from the spear, coughing up huge gouts of blood as the magic suspending it to life faded as well.

"Freedom at- *cough*- last! It has been far too long since I have tasted such a feeling! What to do… what to do." The demon straightened up, the hole in its chest rapidly closing with unholy magic.

Greywulf leaned to Reynald and whispered quietly, "Five gold on him saying 'I think I'll kill you all now'."

The former knight smirked as blue fire began erupting around the Chromatic Demon, it stamping a cloven hoof down and letting lightning blaze in its claws. "I think I'll start by slaughtering all of you little fools!"

"You are far too predictable, beast." Nalia laughed with superiority, pointing at the creature and summoning a Scorcher spell, tearing black marks across its body until it let flames wash over the parts she was attempting to burn. "A pity you were so inattentive when we were out of the room. Perhaps you might have sensed invisible footsteps preparing for your inevitable betrayal."

"She's right…" Greywulf shrugged, dropping to one knee as he triggered a Cone of Cold in his hands, letting the fierce sub-zero ice wash over the demon as it recoiled, slowly forming a protective shard of ice over that section of his body.

Anomen didn't bother to taunt or threaten the beast- his actions would speak far louder than words. He raised his gauntleted hands high, calling on the powers of Helm and Torm to bring a Holy Smite down on the demon's head- it was unable to counter the divine energy with chromatic properties and shrieked with the barrage of energy, but it was not enough to keep it down… not until the traps they'd set beneath where the demon had landed went off. Twin explosions tore chunks out of the demon's calves and hooves, reducing the beast's hamstrings and tendons to mush. Nalia smiled at her handiwork- it had been some time since she'd worked on placing traps, but the skills were still there. Perhaps they were not as effective as a truly dedicated thief's might have been; then again, few thieves would be able to set the trap triggers to ignite fireballs, either.

The demon howled, trying to stand- it spat acid from its lips in attempt to shower his attackers with burning death, but Reynald had run straight for the demon, his tower shield firmly planted in front of him to take the bulk of the nasty liquid. He ignored the sizzling sound, threw the shield to the side and swung with all his might- Reynald felt a sudden obstruction as the sword's acidic edge hit the demon's spinal cord, then a slight push forward as the edge ate through bone and flesh and muscle- the blade finally swung free, letting the demon's head roll across the floor as the rest of the body slumped to the ground.

"Hmm... would that the rest of our foes be so easy to predict." Anomen lowered his hands, crouching by the body of the demon as if to make sure it were not going to rise again, a headless horror. "I admit, I had my doubts as to whether or not the plan would work, but it proved supremely effective, m'lady."

"Of course it did." Nalia laughed with self-satisfaction, folding her arms and drawing her emerald colored robes around her. "I am glad we were able to outsmart an immobile demon with all the preparation time we needed. If we could not, we may as well have given up before we even begun."

"That seems rather harsh." Greywulf remarked, passing by Reynald with an outstretched palm. Reynald looked at Greywulf and chuckled, shaking his head. "I think not, my sorcerer friend- I never agreed to that bet, and for good reason."

Greywulf shook his head with a laugh, then focused on the item he'd truly been interested in- the spear that had been pinning the demon to the wall was lying across the circular forum, gleaming with the energy that still lay dormant within. The handle looked like solid burnished brass, though the weight would say otherwise. He picked it up, feeling the heft of it, then examined the tip, a barbed shard of obsidian that gleamed with magic. Runes lined the handle- he traced them with his fingertip, murmuring the inscription- "The Impaler… a more fitting description I've not seen in some time, I think. Perhaps a wedding present for Jaheira…"

"Haha… only you would think that to be an appropriate courtship gift." Anomen chuckled, slapping Greywulf's back as he straightened up, asking for Greywulf to hand him the spear. "Until we reunite with yon lady, perhaps Reynald might carry it- he alone might have the skill necessary to use it between the four of us."

Reynald nodded, running his hand along the shaft of the spear in appreciation before sheathing his own long sword and grasping the Impaler tightly. "I shall make full use of it whilst it is freely lent. My thanks."

"If that is settled, than perhaps we might continue?" Nalia gestured toward the wall that the demon had been suspended upon- four bright glowing runes were planted on the wall, symbols of the four elements of the world. Together they blurred into a starry portal that emptied into what looked like the void itself- never mind the fact that a low-pitched hum rattled the base of their skulls while they stood before it.

"It is, in fact, what we were hoping to find, although I find myself hesitant to simply walk through a portal to the unknown." Anomen sighed, wiping sweat and grime from his face once more before taking hold of his mace. "No sense in wasting time. Let us gather ourselves and venture forth."

Greywulf glanced bemusedly at the squire as the four of them walked with only the slightest hint of trepidation through the planar gateway, slipping through another vortex of magic and into another mess entirely. The world rippled as though they'd stepped through a gigantic pool of water- Greywulf blinked once, twice, before his eyes widened at the sight of a massive ball of flame bearing down on them. He barely had time to shout a warning as he threw a globe of magic up- barely formed, it stood no chance of remaining solid under the abrupt magic assault. It shattered almost instantly and all four members of the group found themselves flung across the… room? No… more of a battlefield. It may have been a stone arena, for all the pillars and hewn bodies lying about- large demonic figures stomped throughout the area, engaged in mortal combat with one another. Baatezu and Tanar'ri, devils and demons at war… and they appeared to be caught in the middle of it.

"Anomen," Greywulf coughed as he tried to raise himself up on one elbow, glaring heavily at the squire. "I may have said this before, but I'd like to reiterate… if we survive this, I'm never letting you lead the party again."

If the squire had a rejoinder to give or some kind of comment on the matter, it was lost in the deafening roar of unholy battle. Thick dust choked the air that they tried to breathe, although the stink of demon flesh made it hardly pleasant to inhale in the first place. Concrete and stone formed the full prison around them, though instead of the smooth, nearly pristine walls they'd seen in the prior levels of the Keep, these were scarred, filled with notches and divots and the signs of this war they saw taking place before them. For every combatant they saw, there was another couple that lay upon the ground, their bodies rotting away underfoot. Nothing would survive here for long- especially not them. Before any of the four could say anything else, the sound of incantations filled the air, and a misty haze began forming overhead- Greywulf's eyes widened as he saw the shape it was taking- the head of a dragon was floating above them, eyes made of blue flame as the jaws opened wide…

"Dragon's Breath!" Greywulf screamed, hoping the shout would be enough to spur his companions to run- the ball of magical flame exploded where they'd been moments ago, the shockwave enough to send Greywulf tumbling across the ground with his ears ringing and his entire back singed from the intense heat. He eventually stopped rolling, face down on the floor but alive.

Greywulf spat noxious dust from his mouth, trying to avoid the taste of demon's blood and dust that was infiltrating his senses whether he liked it or not- before him, one of the devils wielding a flaming sword lunged forward, impaling a massive glabrezu upon it, the hairy beast emitting a howl that caused the half-elf's whole body to chill. Still, there was little time to try and block out the horrific audio, or even cover his ears- the stricken demon was faltering under his assailant's blow, and was nearly upon Greywulf, about to teeter over and land atop the sorcerer. Greywulf flung his body to the side, rolling out of the way as the creature smashed down upon the concrete floor, black blood gurgling from its mouth as the pit fiend who had struck it pulled his sword out, then brought it down a second, third, even fourth time, hewing the body to pieces.

The sorcerer scrambled to his feet, momentarily at panic mode, an entire battlefield they'd been unprepared for laid out in front of them- no. No time to be panicked, no time to look or assess. Situational awareness would have to serve him… all of them, for now. The first step would be reuniting- the second would be getting out of there. If there even was an exit- the rules of this place seemed to change as they went along… Greywulf glanced to his left, then his right, then started to move. It didn't matter so much where he moved as much as he was just moving- and hopefully less at risk from the demonic conflict than he'd been mere seconds ago. Across what seemed an infinite span of devil and demon combatants, there was a glimmering obelisk, with a sheen so bright it couldn't help but draw his attention. Perhaps that was what the planar creatures were fighting over? An exit? Or perhaps simply decoration in this house of madness… either way, it was likely that the others would spot it as well- or at least he hoped they would. Watcher's Keep was not just any prison- the lower they descended, the closer it seemed they were coming to the abyss itself. Undead spirits, a trapped demon, now a full layer of devils. What kind of creature lurked at the bottom of this pit they had fallen into?

X

Damn. Damn this city, damn the monks protecting it, and damn himself for being caught in this madness. The swashbuckler cringed at the sound of another dragon roar, followed by the inevitable burst of electricity that Abazigal was belching down upon the cityscape. Was it better than a red dragon's fire, consuming the mud-brick huts and the thatch roofs that encircled the outskirts of Amkethran? Perhaps. A quick burst of energy as opposed to the melting heat of flame. Did it really matter? Death was death, no matter the method by which it came- and pushing death off was something he'd gotten very, very good at over the years.

Another burst of lightning struck the ground by where he was hiding, leaving smoking glass instead of sand where the bolt had struck. The man peered out at the impact crater, glancing upwards with hesitation as the shapes flying overhead briefly obscured the bright desert sun, before continuing on with their swath of destruction. Good enough- he bolted from his cover, lithe and nimble footfalls sweeping through Amkethran's streets as he leapt over smoldering rubble that used to be roofs, ignoring the pleas of help from the civilians of this wretched place- too many for him to stop and aid, even if he was the sort to feel urged to do so.

Another roar echoed rattled his teeth- this one was much closer, but not nearly as loud as the enormous dragons that had flown overhead- he swallowed his fear, and took a brief moment to glance behind him as he ran- a dozen paces back was a chromatic drake, currently a sizzling red sheen upon its scales, smoke curling up out of its nostrils as it dove from the sky, aiming to snatch him up in its talons. He immediately went into a forward roll, letting the drake's talons sweep by over top of him while he came up, drawing a long rapier from his belt and watching the drake growl with frustration, looping upwards to come back around for another go at catching its prey.

He did not have time for this- there was, in fact, only one real way out of this place, and fighting his way through an army of drakes and dragons was not it. Not that he couldn't handle himself… it was just he preferred not to. Battles avoided were just as good as battles won, after all. Or at least, he liked to think so. It certainly made things less messy that way- the drake came down upon him, only to be sidestepped at the last second as his rapier pierced the wing membrane of the creature before slashing downward, cutting the wing across the center, effectively grounding the beast permanently. It howled in pain, scales fluttering several colors before remaining red, the creature scattering across the narrow side alley of the city they were nestled in, perching up on both legs as it prepared to breathe its fire- the man recognized a battle he could not win and immediately turned and bolted, feeling heat rush behind him, narrowly avoiding it as he turned a corner, stopping just briefly to sheathe his blade and wipe sweat from his brow. The sounds of screaming caught his ears for just a moment, and he peered back around the corner to see the houses on either side of the alley alight, the drake now interested in poking through them and finding the morsels hidden within, those who had hoped their thin walls and meager homes would protect them from the creatures invading their city. It snapped once, twice, clawing at the remaining pieces of wall that were keeping it from entering the house fully- a terrified woman holding her children close was screaming at the sight of the beast, their lives forfeit the moment the creature could fully fit into her home.

Again, the thought of intervening, of helping crossed his mind- no. He hadn't survived this long by taking foolish risks, playing the hero. That wasn't his style at all. His style was to get in, get out, and be gone before anyone knew what the hell had happened- he turned away, preparing to keep running, but the sound of a shout echoing through the air caught his attention and not, perhaps, in a good way. He spun around and looked in equal parts amazement and horror at the sight before him- a seven foot tall berserker ranger was standing on the back of the drake, pulling it's long sinewy neck back with his raw muscular power, trying to keep it from loosing its fire upon those around, while a bare-chested druid was turning the flames of the house into little more than embers through druidic magic. An elven cleric was healing the injuries of the family whose home had been invaded, and another druid of chestnut colored hair and a tongue as sharp as anyone he could remember sank a dagger deep into the drake's chest again and again, killing the beast slowly but surely.

These were men and women who could actually stand a chance at stopping the sacking of Amkethran. Warriors, druids, mages who might put an end to the death and destruction that rolled all around them. Heroes in the truest sense of the word, through and through. And if they got a good look at him, they'd have his head on a pike before he could say, "You're not still sore about Brynnlaw and the Githyanki, are you?"

No, it would probably not be wise to let these mercenaries get a good look at one Saemon Havarian- no longer the captain of a ship, but still just as wise when it came to avoiding a bad situation. Or at least, making the best of a bad situation. Like moving far away from Amn with the fortune he'd made helping Irenicus, and starting his own little organization out in the middle of nowhere- a nowhere called Amkethran. A place this far removed still desired certain items and amenities… things that a smuggler such as he could provide for a price. Easy, profitable, and safe. Until a war between the thrice-damned Bhaalspawn put him in mortal danger every second he was around these god-children. Which when thinking about it, wasn't all that new- hanging around Greywulf and Imoen and Irenicus hadn't exactly been conducive to healthy living either. When he got out, there would need to be some serious thought put into finding his next port of call- somewhere without this kind of trouble and bustle. Like Neverwinter, perhaps.

Getting out of this first, that would be the trick. Why were they even here? At least, he assumed they were all there- even if he'd only seen four of them. And he didn't recognize the male druid… but it hardly mattered. The Bhaalspawn were at war, and he had no intention of getting caught in the middle. Saemon slipped back around the corner again, preparing to continue his escape- the caverns embedded into the mountain wall where he'd made his smuggler's headquarters were still several streets away, but he knew the shortest routes to take, the pathways of this city like nobody's business- it would take him only another few minutes to navigate. And with the sound of a 'chock' whizzing through the air, those minutes vanished. Far above him, one of the ballista's mounted upon roofs of the city fired, launching a massive bolt through the air, striking Draconis' left wing, sending the beast hurtling from his lofty flight and down towards the ground, crushing rubble and annihilating an entire block of the city- which happened to be the area Saemon was about to run through.

The swashbuckler cursed as he raised a hand to deflect the billows of dust and sand that issued from the crushed buildings, the dragon writhing atop the rubble as it struggled to right itself and remove the wooden ballista bolt that was impaling its wing. Still, it didn't appear that the dragon had noticed him yet- if he was quick, he could double back and get to his caverns by a separate route- he turned to run and suddenly found himself face to face with Jaheira, Aerie, Minsc and Cernd- apparently they'd heard the sound of the dragon's descent and had come to investigate. Saemon's breath caught for a moment and he prayed to all the gods in the world that these men and women wouldn't recognize him without his sailor's clothing and pirate's hat… Jaheira's green eyes flashed and even though his ears were ringing from the explosion of brick and mortar where Draconis had landed, he could read her lips all too well. "YOU!"

Saemon smiled, running his options through his head as quickly as he could, hoping that the shock of seeing him again would allow him a quick word or two- words which would most certainly bring him to the top of their kill list once more, but might just give him the time he needed to get out of this hellish place. Saemon turned around, ran before the dragon slowly rising from the rubble, then shouted aloud, "My lord- er… oh winged great one! You seek Bhaalspawn to slay- I bring before you these four, servants of Gorion's wards! A tribute to spare my life in this time of trouble, oh…ah… oh, reptilian king."

Draconis' eyes flared- much as he was certain the eyes of Minsc, Jaheira and the others did, were he willing to turn around and look at them again- this made the third time he'd betrayed them, or was it the fourth? Perhaps it'd be better not to dwell on it. Saemon dove to the side as Draconis lunged off the pile of rubble toward the four of them, scattering the adventurers immediately. He barely heard what he thought was Jaheira in the distance shouting a stream of profanity at him- he felt only the slightest hint of guilt as he left the battle far behind, climbing over the rubble and continuing onward toward the caverns that composed his hideaway within the city. Yes… safety had a certain way of numbing the guilt that might eat at a man for trading others' lives for his own.

Coming to a small house- more of a shack, really- built right on the side of the rocky mountain that the entire city rested beside, he pulled on the wooden door and let it swing open, letting dust-filtered light stream in as he veritably ran inside, taking in the meager surroundings, a small cot covered in one ratty old blanket with no pillow, a three legged table with so many knots in the wood that it was impossible to write on without smearing the penmanship all to hell, and a small fire pit that had a few old pieces of blackened wood inside it. Nothing more than a pauper's dwelling- or at least, it would appear so to anyone but one of his own trained men or himself. A thin, patchwork blanket also hung on the wall, the only piece of furnishing that was unnecessary.

Saemon grasped the edge of the blanket and tore it off, revealing a small rocky corridor that had been dug into the mountain via magic several months back- one of several secret entrances he'd built to access the massive cavern they'd found inside the mountain itself- it led to an underground river and lake that came up in an oasis on the far side of desert to the east. There was no way for the dragons to reach his men there- he'd be safe for the duration while his men and he packed up everything they could get and get the hell out of the city. He grinned as he finally broke out of the dark passageway, into the open cavern- and immediately cursed- several dozen monks were standing around the crates of smuggled goods he'd brought in, and the bodies of his men were lying on the rocky floor as blood pooled around them. Mercenaries hired by Balthazar flanked him the moment he entered the room- leaving the way he'd arrived would not be an option, their swords unsheathed and at his back.

"Such a waste. I gave them the option to surrender, but it seems your men were more loyal to you than their own lives." A man's voice, tinged with what might possibly have been genuine regret echoed through the large chamber, and Saemon glanced to his right, seeing Balthazar himself kneeling by a pair of dead men- it looked from distance as though their throats had caved in, and from the blood smeared across the monk's knuckles, it was fairly easy to hazard a guess as to what had happened.

"They… ah, were more likely interested in the gold we'd scavenged, I reckon." Saemon swallowed, trying to sound as cheery and cocky as he could manage- wouldn't do to go out with a whimper. "Got quite the haul in our time here… I'd try to barter my life with it, but seeing as you already… ah, have found my little hiding spot, I gather it wouldn't do me much good."

"More the fools then, if true." Balthazar murmured, turning to look at the pirate-turned-smuggler, his brown eyes flashing with danger. "And I have no interest in your stolen goods. I require the use of this place- it will be the staging ground for our defense against the forces of Abazigal. I gave your men the opportunity to hand over control of this place and leave peacefully… they refused."

"Ah. Well… is it safe to say that I shall be offered the same bargain? I don't suppose I might take a few of those trinkets I've stashed away here with me as I depart, will I?" Saemon grinned, feeling his odds of survival increase- perhaps he might just get out of Amkethran alive after all-

"No." Balthazar intoned coldly. "You, Saemon Havarian- do not look so surprised, as if I did not know who you were. I have known of you since you entered my town. Your presence was tolerated only so much in that you kept the other lawless types in line. But again I say… you will not be leaving. Your loyalties have proven far too fickle in the past- I do not doubt that a taste of the dragon's horde would be more than enough for you to sell my men and I to the beasts outside. I shall not risk it. Your men would have lived, were they smart… you, I fear, shall not be so lucky."

Saemon swore, trying desperately to think of something, anything to save himself- a thought flickered in his mind, and he nearly laughed aloud at it, but it was really just too perfect. "Now hold on there… I know you've got lots of planning to do, what with needing to kill your kin and all…" the swashbuckler smirked at the just noticeable look of surprise on Balthazar's face. "You're not the only one who can make a few deductions, I think. But I do know why you and the dragon are fighting- it's the war to end them all, isn't it? The big one that all them prophets went on and on about… and I know that when you and the dragons finish each other off, you'll be looking for a few more Bhaalspawn to lay waste to. Well, it just so happens that I can help with that… I know a couple of them- Greywulf and Imoen? You let me live… and maybe let me take some of my goods out of here with me… and I might be able to help you get your hands on them."

Balthazar remained silent, and while Saemon awaited his answer, all he could think was… _That'll be the fourth betrayal… or the fifth. Damn, those sods are unlucky. _


	35. Part 2: Broken

Blood ran and flowed in heavy, thick rivulets down his features as the half-elf scrambled through choking dust and fog, trying desperately to achieve one simple goal… survive. No high minded purpose, no duty-driven quest or even a pull to destiny lay before him- all he could think of was the here and now, pushing to get one more breath, exist just a few seconds longer. The odds, unfortunately, were not in his favor.

Greywulf's eardrums nearly burst at the sound of another demonic screech going off right beside him as a winged succubus tumbled to the ground, tackled by a whirling mess of maggot-flesh and tentacles, the two evil monstrosities caring little for who or what was around them, only seeking to quench their hatred and bloodlust upon one another. A large claw had clipped him across his brow moments earlier- the blood ran through his eyes as he tried to blink away the stinging sensation, only seeking to make it through this warzone of demons and devils. Just a few dozen feet more, that was all.

Had the others made it there? It was the most distinct- rather the only distinct- thing upon the battlefield, the large black obelisk, glimmering like a lighthouse in an unholy sea of blood. He'd shouted a command in desperation, the only thing that made sense in this hellish place, to meet at the landmark in hopes of survival, nothing but survival… but this place did not seem quite so forgiving. Greywulf stumbled, a mere twenty feet from the obelisk, his entire body trembling as the world spun around him, a deafening roar amidst all the slaughter and carnage. What was happening to him? A concussion from the Dragon's Breath spell he'd nearly been incinerated by? Something was amiss… not something. Him. He was not right. No time to think, no time to ponder, only time for action. One hand in front of the other, keep moving- "Come on!"

A firm hand grabbed the cloak on his back, yanking him to his feet and thrusting him forward, the sorcerer barely aware of who was guiding him. A shadow loomed over the top of them- Greywulf glanced upwards dumbly, only just seeing the downward slash of a fiery blade. He moved to try and counter with a spell, but for how slow his hands were moving he may as well have been hogtied. Before the blade could separate his head from his body, the shield of Sir Anomen swung upward, deflecting the blow while Anomen pushed ahead, the icy mace he wielded crunching into the side of the beast that had attacked them. Frost and icicles spread over the surface of ruined flesh and broken bones, the demon cried in pain as it staggered away, giving the warrior priest enough time to yank Greywulf further from harm, the other battling devils not giving the wounded one much respite- within moments it had been obliterated. No sign of weakness would be tolerated in this miasma of misery.

Anomen pulled Greywulf to the obelisk, sweat rolling down the squire's bearded features as he tried to keep his head on a swivel, watching for any attacks coming their way- nothing so far. Nalia and Reynald were approaching from the other side of the battlefield, feet pounding the stone floor of their jail like pistons, Nalia surrounded by a haze of protective magic, Reynald trying to seek cover behind her, using the power of the Impaler to keep foes at bay. They would reach the obelisk in moments- Anomen hefted Greywulf's nearly limp body toward the obelisk, meaning to rest him upon it for a moment, when something rather strange happened. The moment the half-elf's form touched the gleaming stone, he vanished with a flash of light, dematerialized though time and space and reforming in a strange new world, as unfamiliar as ever, if not quite so war-torn.

Greywulf's delirious eyes gazed up at the slate domed ceiling, shapes and cracks in the form as incomprehensible as the writings of deities or devils. The patterns seemed natural, like that of a mountain side left in the elements for years and years, but it couldn't be- it was almost too natural, a designed imperfection, a chaotic order to the whole thing. Strong white pillars with ribbed edges supported the small platform like the arms of an ogre, flexing and holding the gazebo like structure high. The void was spinning all around them and beyond- their small rest was like a small hourglass of sanctuary in the midst of the universe.

Three more flashes of light grabbed the half-elf's attention, rather, what was left of it- Anomen flinched at the sudden change of scenery- whether it was for the better or worse remained yet to be seen, but at the very least there were no demons ready to cleave their heads like the top of a warm loaf of bread. Still, there was no denying that wherever they were, magic was the domineering force- despite the lack of a physical world to hold their gazebo like platform in place, tumbling through the void, their bodies did not follow suit, flying from their anchorage. They remained still, simply taking in the sudden change, curious yet unnerved, in equal measure. Greywulf's labored breathing eventually drew their attention back to their companion, fallen and cold.

"Is he-" Reynald started to speak with concern, but Anomen had already knelt by the half-elf, his hands held gently over Greywulf's features as he whispered words of clerical magic- nothing. A blue haze fell from his fingers for a brief moment, but little changed- the sorcerer remained as sickly as before.

"This is no ordinary ailment- perhaps a poison from one of the demons we fought through?" Nalia murmured, scanning their companion for any sign of injury or wound through which a malady could have spread- there was nothing. He was as whole- if scarred- as ever, though his form looked ready to expire any moment. Sweat poured from his face as he lay there, muscles tensing and relaxing in sequence.

Another healing spell from Anomen, this one meant to cure diseases- still nothing. The squire stood, concern across his bearded face as he glanced to the others, looking for answers they most certainly didn't have. Perhaps they might've simply been left to ponder in vain as their friend expired, had aid not descended to them from the most unlikeliest of places…

"You don't look like demons at all, do you? No, I suppose you don't, though I rather doubt you'd tell me if you did." The voice was clipped with a foreign sounding accent, and it was made even more remarkable that there was nobody standing on the platform around them to speak it- upon glancing to take in the over-void of their surroundings, however, the source became clear, even if their perception of the current situation became that much muddier.

Floating around the gazebo, just out of their reach was a dapper figure, clad in leather vest, triple stitched leggings and two-toned shoes, as well as adorned with a funny top hat and wool cloak. At least, it appeared to be sheepskin, if heavily dyed. His chest was bare and scarred beneath the open buttoned vest, and his demeanor, while friendly enough, bore the unmistakable feel of something… other. His ears bore the tell-tale pointed tips of an elf, but the eyes- their piercing yellow gleam did not settle the nerves of any who dared look him squarely.

Perhaps it was his sudden appearance, so quickly coming from what had appeared to be an endless expanse and beyond, or the way in which he so casually spoke to the new arrivals, but nobody seemed overly eager to greet the man- finally it was Nalia who spoke, clearing her throat as only a noblewoman would when addressing an unknown such as this. "You speak so lightly and easily, though we all recognize the danger of this place, I should think. You assume rightly that none of us are demon-kind, but your own manner leaves much to be questioned- who are you?"

The floating humanoid grinned, nodding as he hovered backwards a few feet. "Very good! Some sense in you Primes after all, I see- the cambion told me to try and find Primes with a bit of wit about them. The four of you might actually do. Perhaps three though, from the looks of your companion…"

"Speak plainly, creature!" Anomen commanded, leveling his mace at the sudden arrival. "For you are no human, that much we have all deduced by now, I should think. I have heard another with a similar demeanor and manner as you speak of people as 'primes' in the past- you are a tiefling, yes?"

Golden eyes lit up with both amusement and approval- "Yes, yes you will do nicely, after all! I am quite glad to have found you- we should be away though, 'tis no good to stay for too long in the void like this. Nasty things tend to find their way here… ah, I believe I hear one flapping its wings right now."

With that, the tiefling glided forward and landed on the stone floor of the portal platform, wrinkling his brow at the construct they were all gathered within, sparing Anomen's weapon a second glance before examining the pillars of the gazebo intently, scrutinizing their sides as though seeking something entirely hidden from sight. "Please point that mace elsewhere, sir knight, or whatever you fancy yourself. There is so much about your societies I have yet to fathom, though it will probably be some time before I venture amidst the planes again, once we have escaped this wretched prison…"

"Do you know where we are?" Reynald questioned, still guarded but oddly at ease. "This remains within the Watcher's Keep, I assume, but to hold a space so devoid of life and yet filled to the brim with such evil- we barely escaped a horde of demons only to find ourselves adrift in nothing at all!"

"That does seem to be the trick of this little place, doesn't it?" the tiefling grunted, running one hand up along the pillar before finding something- he gazed at the small, nearly imperceptible markings on the stone, then tapped it quickly in succession. "This level of the Keep, as you refer to it, draws all manner of extra-planar creatures here like a siren's song- many demons have been pulled into the ether after being lured to the gateway this place opens in the other Realms. Getting out of course… that's the rub. Nobody seems to be able to leave, once they've found themselves imprisoned here- and any time a demon dies, their essence simply reforms into a new body. I hate demons..."

"Egads, enough of this." A visibly confused Anomen held both hands up, trying to get the tiefling's attention. "You are one of the first things we have seen in some time that has not attempted to kill us on sight, and I thank you for that. But we are in sore need of some kind of explanation, and our friend has taken gravely ill. If you have any intent to aid us then I would ask you to-"

Anomen's protests were cut off by a familiar, if dreaded sound. The unmistakable tones of a dragon's roar echoed through space- far from the east, or what passed for east in such a directionless void, a speck of white slowly grew, flying on a vector headed straight for them. The ice dragons were known for their cruelty and merciless treatment of other creatures- it looked as though the time spent here in the prison of Watcher's Keep had done little to improve this one's demeanor. Frost dissipated at its jaws as the ice dragon roared- Anomen turned back to the tiefling, who hadn't bothered to turn around, continuing to probe and prod the runes upon the pillars around them. "Hmm… you'd think I'd remember the sequence of runes to get us away from this place- I've visited here often enough. The dragon isn't upon us yet, is it? No… ah, there it is!"

Even as the great winged beast drew ever closer, the tiefling's meddling and prodding of the gazebo caused an eruption of light to pour out of the ceiling of the gazebo- a portal, undoubtedly. Before any could question the destination of this particular wormhole in space-time, the light enveloped them all and so the dragon found nothing but dust upon his arrival to the portal- it crumbled stone within its frustrated claws, emitting empty roars to go alongside an equally empty belly.

X

_Two hours ago:_

_ The strength of the desert sun would normally be enough to drive any travelers to their knees, destroying the drive of any prospective travelers that dared venture through the burning sands of the southern wastes. The hot sun, the lack of water, desert scorpions and serpents, even the rare gorgon or two that might appear in the mirages of the sands. _

_ And yet… the city of Amkethran was the one full bastion of the desert- embedded in the sides of mountain range that lined the desert and separated it from the more temperate zones of the land, it was the closest thing to civilization to be found in the whole region. And in just a few short hours, the entire thing could be razed to the ground by an army of dragons._

_ Aerie panted with effort as she skid to a halt, sand tumbling all around her feet as she came to a halt beside the others, drenched in sweat and dust as they took refuge under the walls of the city. A roar from above shook the walls they stood by, releasing another drizzle of sand from the top of the walls atop their heads. "This is madness!" Viconia shouted, trying to be heard over the cries and screams issuing from within the city. "We barely survived one battle against these creatures, and we think to throw ourselves against another horde of maelthra?"_

_ A rebuttal from Jaheira was cut off with the sound of a dragon's wing swiping a tower of the citadel's walls nearby, sending debris tumbling down, landing with a massive thud some twenty feet down the line of the wall. Cernd raised an arm to try and ward some of the flying sand that flew their way, spitting some from his mouth as he gathered himself, fixing his gaze on the massive cracked doors that led into the city proper. "There is no safety to be found outside this place, nor within until the threat is vanquished. If we are to find the leader of this place, this Balthazar, then we should hurry. What is it to be?"_

_ "People need our help here!" Minsc declared, glancing inside, looking at the throngs of screaming people, hurtling from place to place, trying to find some measure of sanctuary from the flying monsters in the sky. "We cannot simply turn a blind eye to their plight! We stand ready to help! No time to waste, right Boo?"_

_ The ranger hurled himself from their holding position, bursting inside with sword drawn, launching himself from a pile of rubble to the side, onto a mud-brick roof that was nearly crumbling, into the air to swipe a wing clean off a Chromatic drake that was swooping toward a man who had stumbled while running for safety, or whatever passed for safety in this place. _

_ Viconia snarled as the rest of the group followed, muttering under her breath, "The unthinking selflessness of this group makes me sick- I did not escape one death at the hands of zealots only to meet another death in the company of the equally mad."_

_ "If you think so little of us then you are certainly welcome to take your leave." Jaheira tossed behind her, a tight smirk across her dirtied features. "Tis only a week long journey through the desert, due west. You might make it a full day before dying of thirst."_

_ Whatever spite Viconia may have returned Jaheira's way was cut off by another roar- a massive brown dragon swooped low, nearly toppling another tower along the outer wall they'd just passed within- the sound of a scream echoed through the air before a sudden thud of two bodies hitting the ground slamming beside them. The sight was a grisly one- two monks, their bodies and internal organs crushed under the weight of the dragon's claws before being dropped from hundreds of feet in the air.. _

_ The group only spared the sight of the two dead men a moment- there was more to do, and no time to tarry. Minsc's lead had been good enough, if rather unbalanced- Aerie had managed to regain the lead with him, helping to guide his rampage in an actual direction, aiming for the central structure, the citadel of this desert fortress. In many ways, it was an interesting dynamic- the ferocity and barely restrained rage of the Rashemani combined with the drive and focused powers that leapt from Aerie's hands, clearing a path, while Cernd and Jaheira used their druidic magics to raise barriers, shield civilians and save as many lives as possible. A string of vines twisted out from the earth to provide a method of climbing, allowing two more to escape a collapsing building, climbing to an upper structure that would provide some method of escape- another drake swooped down towards the newly exposed civilians, only to get dropped from the sky, a glowing hole embedded through its chest from a Bolt of Glory sent from Aerie's fingertips._

_ Viconia watched her erstwhile companions continue to fight, the drow sticking mostly to the shadows, every now and then taking a moment to use her mace or magic upon any who escaped the notice of the others- but this continued to gnaw at her- the meanderings of the insane ranger had put them into an untenable position- the longer they continued to interfere in this manner, the sooner the other dragons would take notice and wipe them out. Perhaps it was time to reassess her position- not to say she was ungrateful for her rescue- she owed Greywulf, and she'd admit that, if grudgingly. But suicide was not on her agenda. There had to be a better way, something she could convince the others of…_

_ "Drow! Spy of Sendai!" a shout caught her attention, as a brown robed monk rushed to her side, grabbing her arm with an iron grip as his gaze fixed upon hers. "Balthazar warned your mistress about keeping her spies from this sacred place. We fight Abazigal's forces now, we shall not tolerate your interference as well!"_

_ "Unhand me, rivvil." Viconia hissed, her mace rising from its lowered position in her right hand to come across the monk's right side- or it would have if the monk's reflexes weren't so damned quick. The warrior dropped Viconia's arm and raised both arms to deflect the mace swing, then thrust his palms forward to send Viconia tumbling backward, settling into a fighting stance. _

_ "You will regret that decision-" Viconia swore, rising from her unglorious tumble, hefting her weapon tall again- before dropping to a crouched position, chanting furiously in an attempt to take the monk by surprise. In a manner, it worked- there was a split second where her opponent hesitated, waiting for the physical attack that was no longer a threat, but his speed would be more than enough to reach her before her spell ignited- if not for a touch of interference._

_ Lightning tore from the sky and struck the monk with smell of burning hair and flesh, the monk driven to his knees as he struggled to make his muscles stop spasming. He managed to look up, seeing Jaheira standing beside Viconia, the drow glowing just faintly with a Bull's Strength spell while thunderclouds gathered above Jaheira, heeding the druid's call. He barely had time to scream before Viconia's mace turned his head into a bloody pulp._

_ Gazing down at the headless mess lying on the red streaked sand before them, Viconia turned to grimace at Jaheira, the druid refusing to say anything… "I will not say it, you v'utir elg'caress."_

_ Jaheira snorted, her knowledge of the drow language extending just far enough to know what Viconia had called her. "I would expect nothing less, eldalie nek."_

_ Viconia laughed, a cruel sound, but there were genuine notes of respect in her tones. "Ha. Perhaps Greywulf sees something in you after all. This monk seemed to think I was part of Sendai's forces, come to scout the city while the dragon invades- there is something more to their relationship, I think, than mere antagonists."_

_ "For once we are in agreement then. This entire situation has felt wrong from the moment we landed in Amkethran- and I do not like being manipulated." Jaheira's eyes narrowed. "The sooner we get to meet this Balthazar the better. I have some questions that need answering…"_

_ "If he is a part of this conspiracy against your lover then we will gain nothing from him, save death at his hands or at the claws of these dragons." Viconia scoffed. "That they mistook me for one of Sendai's spies so quickly might work to our advantage- you continue on with the others, do what you feel you must. I will do the same."_

_ Jaheira had little time to argue or debate the point with the drow cleric- she spun on her heel and sprinted into the smoke and dust of the city, leaving Jaheira to curse and run back to the others, whispering a silent- and only partially begrudging- prayer to Silvanus on Viconia's behalf._

X

_Now:_

Minsc loosed a berserk yell, swinging the Silver sword down to sever the neck of the ice drake that had lunged at him, turning his swing into a full circle, just in time to recoil from a blast of flame, one that would have engulfed him if not for his quick reflexes. As he staggered backward, face flush and reddened with the intense heat being generated from the red drake bearing down upon him, Minsc was tackled out of the way by Jaheira, the two tumbling behind the remains of a fallen tower from the wall surrounding the city. Flame washed over the top of the fallen rubble as the drake continued to pour its flame; Jaheira cursed, pointing the other direction, gesturing for Minsc to move.

Even as the two warriors began crawling in opposite directions, perpendicular to the drake in an attempt to split its attention and flank it, Cernd remained static, arms raised as he clenched his teeth, muscles taut and body rigid while he channeled the power of druidic magics into holding the collapsing structure before him upright just a few more seconds… just a few more. Vines sprouted from the earth and pushed upward, entangling themselves to nearby buildings and then to the rubble before him, trying to hold up a pathway for Aerie to bring the survivors inside out- it was going to be close…

A dirty young boy along with an injured man and his wife burst from the dusty innards of the structure with Aerie close behind, her robes whipping behind her as the vines Cernd had summoned snapped and let the entire building collapse behind them. The druid wasted no time tending to the civilians who had come forth- they would have to survive on their own from here on- there was no time. The four companions had continued through the city, trying to find their way to the main fortress, though the siege laid upon it by the winged ones above made travel rather perilous- stopping to help those in need of it had proven even more of a delay, though none of them would consider it in that manner. They'd stumbled upon several drakes laying waste to a small street of houses, a particularly nasty red one poking through the collapsing buildings with fire and murder in its eyes. They'd succeeded in distracting it for now, but it had been making full use of its flight and fiery breath, keeping them at a distance and making them dive for cover more often than not.

Still, it had their full attention now- Aerie began her casting, preparing to loose holy power on the beast- as if hearing her incantations and understanding just what it would mean were she to finish, the drake swerved from its position holding Minsc and Jaheira at bay and lunged at Aerie, jaws chomping furiously. The elven cleric sidestepped, nearly tripping over a pile of crumbled bricks and rocks, even as Cernd chanted his own form of magics. Swarms of insects rose from the dust and headed straight for the drake, sending it rearing back on its haunches for a moment before loosing fire at the horde of pests, incinerating most of them in the first blast and catching the rest with a second and a third. Still, the distraction had been enough. Minsc barreled out of nowhere with the Vorpal sword raised- the intended downswing to behead the drake missed as it swerved its neck to the side, forcing Minsc's charge to barrel into the drake itself, sending both of them tumbling into another crumbling cottage- another set of screams issued from within as the drake blasted fire in its tumble, setting the whole house ablaze- Cernd's eyes narrowed, knowing how quickly the civilians inside would meet their end if they didn't act quickly. He immediately began his magic again, drawing on what power he had left- most of which had been exhausted already. Just a bit longer, please… the flames of the house began dying immediately as he tried to calm them, tried to bend nature to his will one more time.

Even as the drake pulled up, trying to lunge for the cowering people inside, Minsc leapt onto the drake's back, pulling the neck away, trying desperately to force the beast away from those inside- Aerie had already slid into the rubble of the house, casting her spells to close the wounds of those within, while Jaheira had abandoned magic for her weapon, plunging the dagger she carried into the drake's chest again and again, ignoring the hot blood shooting across her body and features as she relentlessly ended the creature's life. As the beast finally collapsed, Jaheira stepped back, wiping blood from her eyes and sheathing the dagger with a heavy breath. She needed to get a new weapon sooner rather than later- the dagger wasn't a bad choice, but she wasn't too keen on the idea of going up against dragons without any other weapon. Her spear lay shattered in the desert outside Amkethran now… but until then, she'd survive. Survival was something they were good at- Jaheira's reflections were interrupted by the sound of a full dragon's roar, rumbling the ground they stood upon. She swallowed, fighting the panic that threatened to well up within her, amending her previous assumption as Draconis' shadow fell upon them. Survival was something they were good at… so far.

None of them needed say a word- they all began running, hoping to avoid the notice of the brown dragon far above them, but it was far too late. Their small battle with the drakes had attracted one of their main foes, and it was descending upon them quickly. Far too quickly for them to avoid, even as they rushed through the streets of the city blindly, hoping to find something, *anything* to provide cover or a way out- and then fate intervened, giving them a short reprieve. The defenders of Amkethran were down, but not quite out, not yet- the towers set around the city with ballistae had targeted Draconis on his dive, hoping to take the dragon out of the fight- and when it fired, the shot hit, if not lethally. The big creature's wing was pierced with the massive bolt, eliciting a howl of pain from the dragon and sending its arc upward for a few seconds, before crashing to the ground in a gigantic explosion of dirt and brick.

The four adventurers skidded to a halt, raising their arms to block the sudden onrush of dust and smoke blowing their way- Minsc grinned through the dirt and the dust; he pointed toward the impact site of the dragon, just a few streets ahead. "Now is our chance! Another dragon awaits the taste of our righteous steel! AAAAARGH…"

Minsc's battle cry faded as the ranger powered forward, the others following in his wake as they zigged and zagged through the narrow streets, finally coming to the ruined block where Draconis was rising- only to nearly bowl over another civilian headed the opposite direction. The fleeing man skidded to a halt, his face a tableau of horror as their gazes met his- something familiar about his features, as though they'd met him before, but where-?

"YOU!" Jaheira shouted- of course. Now the face matched the memory. Saemon Havarian, pirate, smuggler, thief… betrayer. The one who had set them up to Irenicus back in Brynnlaw. The man spun on his heels and darted back to the rising form of Draconis, giving the group a small pause- the sudden appearance of their old enemy had killed their momentum, if only for a moment- was it time to pursue him, or attack the rising dragon before it could gain its bearings- too late. Far too late now- with a few treacherous words, the beast had leapt over Saemon's cowering form and descended upon them, scattering the group as they found themselves in mortal combat once again.

Aerie skidded across the dirt and dust, slamming against a small pile of rubble as she felt something in her shoulder give upon the impact. She stifled the immediate urge to cry out in pain, instead choosing to attempt to scramble to her feet and try to keep moving. Draconis was swiping at Minsc, the ranger trying desperately to parry the claw strokes from the great beast, but he was on his back, swinging the Silver blade madly to keep himself from being bisected. Only a matter of time before his arms gave out or his reflexes were a fraction too slow to block the downswings from Draconis- unless he received a bit of help, of course. Aerie braced herself, leaning against a half collapsed wall and began casting, trying to keep her fingers moving without feeling, moving on instinct-

Draconis' acidic breath spewed out over the top of Minsc- Aerie nearly leapt in horror, realizing how quick the breath would eat the flesh from her protector's bones, leave him a bloody skeleton in seconds… she pushed the thought away and pushed her will into words, loosing a Sunfire in Draconis' face, the dragon rearing back in fury, shielding itself from the blazing light. Would Minsc even be able to react to the sudden reprieve? Was he even capable of it now? Her heart leapt in relief, seeing Jaheira kneeling beside Minsc's form, her hands and eyes glowing as she purified the air with nature's power, each second a drain on her body- the ranger was finally out of danger- just in time. Jaheira's chest heaved as she fell backward, collapsing into Cernd's arms, the male druid trying to pull her to safety, getting some distance from Draconis before the beast recovered its senses.

Aerie began to stagger out to rejoin the others- no. She saw now how they'd have to defeat this creature- they were too damn tired, too worn to fell the creature in a normal fight. Jaheira's collapse after a single spell was enough to make this evident. They'd been going too long, the desert trek, the mountain battle against the drakes and dragon- too much. Here, in the ruins of the city, they'd only get the slimmest of chances. That the beast had been grounded was the only stroke of luck they could count on. She stumbled backward, taking a seated position beside a half-crumbled wall, inhaling sharply and mentally preparing herself. With any luck, the others would understand, would follow suit- they often joked that traveling together for so long let them know each other's thoughts and plans without even saying anything- she prayed to Baervan that in this one instance it could prove true.

Minsc scrambled to his feet, whipping around to face the still writhing Draconis, his tail knocking pieces of stone and brick high into the air as he thrashed- that wasn't what he had hoped to see. Where was Aerie? Nowhere to be found- another gout of acid blasted from Draconis' mouth and into the air, preparing to rain all around them. Cernd had seen it- he was pulling Jaheira beneath a leaning wall; it would be just enough to cover Jaheira, but not himself- but if they waited for the remaining acid to fall, the dragon would be fully recovered and wipe them out with ease. Minsc grimaced, knowing what he was about to do would certainly hurt. Instead of taking cover, he charged ahead through the mist of acid falling upon him, burning his skin and setting his eyes ablaze with fire- he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he could remember where the beast had been- Minsc swung his blade high, feeling the satisfying impact of the blade slicing into scale and flesh, but coming out the other side too quickly, far too quickly- he hadn't hit the vital organs he'd aimed for- no, the Vorpal blade had cut into the dragon's arm, severing muscle and making the beast rear back again- only for a second. It lunged forward and raked its claws across Minsc's body, knocking him into a standing brick wall, the tottering rubble collapsing upon the impact, burying Minsc's blinded form in the dirt and stone.

Cernd trembled, his face pouring sweat as he heard the sound of Minsc's limp body impacting the rocks behind him- acid poured down from the dragon's breath and scalded his bare back, the druid keeping Jaheira safe from the downpour with his own body. Minsc was down, but maybe he had bought them enough time to mount a retreat- as he felt the burning subside, he spun to try and shunt aside whatever attack Draconis was throwing his way- a shadow loomed above them as his eyes widened, watching a massive block of stone and brick come hurtling his way, flipped up from Draconis' wounded claw. No time to pull Jaheira aside- Cernd's nostrils flared as he gave himself to the beast within, his flesh bursting and tearing as the wolfwere howled, making its presence known. Cernd raised his arms and caught the enormous boulder, bestial muscle and fur straining under the weight, tearing and ripping and breaking bones under the enormous stress. For a moment it looked as though the wolfwere would collapse, the boulder falling upon him- Cernd shunted the rock aside, arms and shoulders broken from the impact, muscles shredded beneath skin, but all of it rapidly healing with the regenerative powers of the beast. Still, it wouldn't be quick enough to stop Draconis, the dragon already moving to strike, skittering over the dirty streets in a bee-line for Cernd and Jaheira-

A blast of sunlight shone down from the heavens, causing Cernd to raise his arm for protection- a Sunray blazed from the heavens squarely down upon Draconis, burning and setting the dragon's back ablaze, but more importantly, blinding the beast once again, the dragon skidding across the ground and slithering all over the rubble of the destroyed city block, clawing at anything within reach as it attempted to regain its sight. Through the bestial, feral instincts, Cernd recognized the work of Aerie, and understood her actions, her plans… one shot after another, the elven maiden was doing her best to keep the dragon off balance, only taking shots when the beast was occupied, not letting it know her location or zero in on her- in a way, using the others as a distraction to let her distract the dragon from them in turn. No time to plan, only to react to Aerie's spellcraft, to trust she would keep the dragon from growing too focused- Cernd leapt at Draconis, landing on the burning scales on its back- Cernd flexed his rapidly regrowing arms, the bones within solidifying, finally regaining their strength- Cernd thrashed his claws down upon the damaged scales, wrenching and tearing the dragon's protection off of it, exposing the raw hide underneath with each extreme effort. Draconis howled in pain, thrashing at the sudden exposure of its back to the elements- he rolled left and right, sending Cernd flying off, bouncing off a pile of rubble before rebounding off and back towards Draconis, sinking his jaws into the exposed skin he'd ripped open. Blood gushed from the wound as Cernd continued to bite and tear- Draconis leapt backward, trying to squash Cernd against another mudbrick hut- again the wolfwere escaped, leaping off and loping along a line of ruined homes. Draconis spewed acid at the running creature, soaking the entire street in the burning liquid- Aerie tucked her hands and knees in closer, trembling as she listened to the sizzling of dissolving stone around her as the cover she was hiding behind melted under the dragon's breath. Her hiding spot wouldn't take any more abuse, and the dragon wouldn't remain oblivious to her presence too much longer. Cernd was distracting it for her, giving her time- but the jaws of a wolfwere wouldn't be enough to kill it. Minsc was down, Jaheira was down… she was the only one with enough power to kill it. Just her and the dragon- she needed time to prepare. Aerie swallowed hard, then began casting.

Cernd dove from one crouch to another, trying to stay ahead of Draconis' breath, utilizing all of his enhanced reflexes to stay alive, to keep himself on the run, still moving… and there was his chance. The dragon's breath stopped for a moment, letting him turn and charge the beast in a loping stride- he lunged ahead and impacted Draconis' chest, clawing and slashing the scales, cracking the armor of the beast with each blow, but not doing enough to break through. The back, he needed to get onto Draconis' back where he could truly hurt it- Draconis' arms raked down to grab the wolfwere, only for Cernd to release his grip, lunging out to snag the dragon's claw as it came to squash him. Cernd pulled himself up to try and use the dragon's arm to launch himself behind Draconis… too slow. Draconis' tail swept up and slammed Cernd out of the air and into the ground, the wolfwere lying in a miniature crater as Draconis reared up, slamming its massive claws onto Cernd's form again and again. The wolfwere raised one arm weakly before collapsing as the fur and claws vanished, revealing the battered form of Cernd beneath, unconscious and near death's door. Draconis roared in victory and prepared to end it all- the sound of a spell igniting tore Draconis' attention away, the dragon spinning to find the source of his constant frustration so far- the only thing he saw was the line of rubble half-melted by his acid- Draconis sniffed, then growled, gurgling acid deep in his throat as he zeroed in on the stink of elven fear.

Acid gushed over the cover Aerie had been hiding behind- the whole area was engulfed in steam and sulfur from the dragon's breath- if it had been done a minute ago, Aerie would have been left a corpse, a melting skeleton cowering behind a few scraps of brick and stone. Instead, Aerie stood tall in the ruins of the street, her skin glowing with magical protection.

Aerie's thoughts flickered briefly to Greywulf, wondering what the sorcerer would do here. Probably some clever quip, some insult or challenge- something to foster the illusion of courage, to show the bad guys he wasn't afraid, to show them he'd taken them on anytime, anywhere, and that he'd still come out on top. That was him- not her. She was scared. She knew how close death was, how it stared her in the face even now… Greywulf's face, his smile flickered before her, and she braced herself. She wished he was here to give her strength… but maybe this was how he felt before each insane plan. No more time to think about it. Only time to act.

One spell- Aerie raised a hand and shouted her incantations, igniting a Bolt of Glory in her hand that she hurled across the street, leaving a smoking hole in the dragon's scales on its chest. Draconis hurtled forward, swinging claws down to bisect the elf- the claws bounced off as Aerie's second spell ignited, a Stoneskin covering her body and protecting her from physical harm. Enough time for Aerie to hit the dragon again- she closed her eyes and hurried her incantations, speaking as fast as she dared, not wanting to miscast a single word- finished. A Blade Barrier sprang to life around her as the dragon went to send his tail to knock her from her feet- the tail hit the blade barrier and rebounded off, skin and scales cut to ribbons as soon as it touched the magical wall of razors. Draconis howled in pain as his eyes blazed in fury- Aerie shook her head, trying to fight off the sudden wave of queasiness that racked her body. Too many powerful spells, too quickly. No- not now. Cernd had fallen. Jaheira was down. Minsc… where was her friend, her protector? All of them, their lives, all on her… no! Aerie's eyes blazed open, a last surge of strength coming through her body as she prepared for the dragon's final attack. The dragon grasped a pile of rubble, throwing it down upon Aerie's form, rock and stone scattering this way and that as the blade barrier struggled to protect her; more and more she felt her barrier weaken, the dragon adapting and adjusting his attacks to match her protections- a final boulder slammed against her body, sending her tumbling and another Stoneskin dropping as the Blade Barrier fell completely.

Draconis roared and moved to strike her down with another slash of his claws- a Sol's Searing Orb materialized in Aerie's hand, her arm already in motion to hurl it. The magical stone struck Draconis' claw and pierced it completely, exiting the other side, sending the beast stumbling back in pain, shaking the ground with his bellows of agony. Here it was- all of Aerie's spells had been leading to this point, nothing more than a means to an end, the goal to force Draconis into attempting to kill her the only way he could. The next few seconds would decide it all- she had two Stoneskins left, just enough to complete the plan if Draconis was angry enough- the beast swung back down to all fours, fire in his eyes as he lunged at Aerie.

She had no time to react- he grabbed Aerie in his uninjured claw, squeezing tightly, imagining the elf's body exploding in a shower of gore from the pressure he was exerting upon her- another Stoneskin fell from her body, igniting the beast's fury even further. Fine. Protection from Acid, protection from physical harm- the dragon was done playing with this puny mortal- all the magic in the world would do naught once she was inside his gullet… with that, Draconis opened his jaws wide and tossed Aerie in whole. He felt Aerie land on his tongue, swallowing before the elf could make a mad scramble for the front of the dragon's jaws, roaring in triumph as he felt her begin to slide down his throat… strangely enough, she wasn't squirming as much as he had anticipated. In fact, the small tickle within felt less like a mad struggle for freedom, and more like… more like a spell? Some kind of spell… sliding down the caustic, bloodied throat of the dragon, drowning in saliva and acidic fluid, her last Stoneskin falling away and leaving her skin to burn, Aerie closed her eyes, making her final peace with whatever would come next. She gathered the last of her magics… then spoke a Holy Word.

The spell did its job in spectacular fashion- a bridge between Aerdrie Faenya and the prime material plane opened up around Aerie for a brief moment, pure priestly magic engulfing the elven cleric in an explosion that engulfed everything within thirty feet. Or at least, it would have if she hadn't been so constricted within the dragon's throat. Instead of the power of her god engulfing everything around her, it was all confined and funneled down into the dragon's belly and up into the dragon's mouth and skull- Draconis opened his mouth, clawing and scratching at his throat madly, trying to find some kind of release for the godly power beginning to engulf his brain, shining out of his mouth and eyes and nostrils… not nearly enough. Draconis' head, neck and upper chest exploded while Aerie's burnt, bloody form tumbled from the explosion and rolled to a halt beside a broken mud-brick hut in the dust of the Amkethran streets. Aerie managed to open one swollen eye for a brief moment, seeing her handiwork… Draconis was dead at her hands. For one such as her- a wingless Avariel, cast from her home… to slay a dragon in her final moments? This would be a fine death, as Minsc would put it. She hoped he wouldn't blame himself for her passing… he had enough guilt to bear on his broad shoulders. But in the clarity that comes with death, Aerie found all her troubles, all her worries beginning to float away… one… by… one…

Aerie's chest stopped rising and falling while her unseeing eyes drifted upward to gaze at the bright midday sky, her spirit passing into the arms of the goddess. A fine death indeed.

X

Rocks tumbled from the ceiling, and the entire ground beneath their feet shook with every step that Ogremoch, Prince of Earth, took within the cavern leading to Sendai's Enclave. His shadow loomed over Imoen, Sarevok, Haer'Dalis and Solaufein as they backed away from the monstrous spirit of the earth- a marble fist rose high in the air, slamming down amidst them, scattering two in each direction to avoid becoming paste under his grip.

Sarevok rolled to a crouch, teeth grit as his mind spun in equal parts frustration and calculation. It had taken their best attacks and reformed itself with almost no effort- there were few enemies that had stood up to the full force of a Deathbringer's fury- it was not something he was used to. Or liked having to face, for that matter. Little time was left for any further reflection- instinct and reflex spurred him on, and as the fist that had crushed the ground beside him began recoiling, he lunged for the arm, trusting the magic of the Chaos Blade to cut the marble armor Ogremoch had grown to protect itself- it did, if only just. Shearing through the hardened stone left Sarevok's arms burning with exertion, but he was rewarded with seeing the syrupy strands of mud beneath that had connected hand to arm- for all the good it did. The mud turned to hardened rock and shot from the arm socket like a dart trap embedded in a dungeon wall- Sarevok took several to the breastplate, only the might of the Red Dragon Scale saving him from instant impalement.

A sheen of magic hazed over Sarevok, deflecting the missiles that would have eventually found an unarmored spot- Imoen's work, if it was really her pulling the strings of that pink-haired form that walked among them now. Oh yes, Sarevok was well aware that there were two inhabitants of that particular body these days- the taint had grown powerful indeed in his little sister- Sarevok had mastered it, as had Greywulf. Would she be able to do the same, or was she destined to lose herself to the bloodlust like so many of their kin? Perhaps that question was better off pondered when they weren't in such imminent danger, even as Ogremoch turned its attention to the girl with the flaming eyes, her powers wild and unfettered as she lashed out with fire, melting and scorching the stone surrounding the spirit's body.

"Our efforts are for naught!" Solaufein shouted, coming to one knee with his blade at guard, glancing at the Bhaalspawn woman, trying to gather her attention. "It draws its power from the earth, we shall never be able to defeat it down here!"

"T'would be foolish not to try though, would it not?" Haer'Dalis called back, throwing himself at the recoiling elemental prince, twisting in midair to plunge both of his short swords into the chest of Ogremoch, sinking into a crack in the marble armor. He twisted them, trying to open the crack further- Once there was a tiny gap to be found, he raised a hand and thrust it toward the split, launching a burst of magic missiles into the crack, sending chunks of rock and mud exploding from the elemental form.

"Perhaps, but I would much rather fight a battle we have a chance of winning!" Solaufein growled, eyes narrowed as he watched Ogremoch's body bubble with muddy tentacles, six of them sprouting and launching towards Imoen. Her hands moved to direct the flame to the new threat; she managed to shear off two of the tentacles of earth before the others found her- one grasped her arms, tying them together and snaking over her wrists and arms, while two more slid around each of her ankles. The final one wrapped around Imoen's petite waist, finally drawing tight and sucking the girl straight towards its earthen form- Solaufein swung his blade through the mud ropes, severing the link and freeing Imoen once more. She looked at Solaufein with what may have been gratitude before moving to burn the monster again- Solaufein grabbed her wrist and pulled her to face him. "This is pointless!" he shouted. "There must be another way! We must sever its link to the earth-"

Solaufein's words were cut off by a ball of spiked earth extending from Ogremoch's head, whipping around like a flail made of dirt and thorns. The drow tried to get to his feet, woozy with the impact- Sarevok growled and moved to defend the kneeling drow, spitting down beside Solaufein's rising form. "On your feet! I will not fall to defend your hide, elf."

"I would not dream of forcing you to a death so noble." Solaufein muttered, struggling to raise his blade again as Sarevok parried another sharpened spike of earth headed for the two of them. "There… there must be a way to end this creature-"

"There is." Imoen's voice rang out clearly in the cavern- Imoen's voice, not the other one. For a brief moment, somehow, Imoen was the one fully in control… and she'd found a way to end it all. A Cone of Cold burst from her fingertips, directed not at Ogremoch, but the ground beneath their feet. A sheet of ice grew to encase the entire ground, spreading out to finally encase the entire cavern floor- Imoen began working on the walls as well… it didn't take long for Ogremoch to realize just what Imoen had planned, but the efforts of Haer'Dalis, Solaufein and Sarevok were more than enough to deflect any efforts to disrupt her. Ice continued to grow, encasing the entire cavern in its crystal grasp; Ogremoch lunged at Imoen in desperation, trying to push through the warriors and the bard- all three of them lunged back in return, blades and magic cutting the creature open from hip to shoulder. Without the power of the earth to call upon, cut off from the touch of the land… Ogremoch screamed and collapsed, elemental essence leaving the crumbling remains of a stone and dirt body and dissipating into the ether, returning to the Elemental planes.

Haer'Dalis exhaled in relief and sheathed Chaos and Entropy with a flourish, watching the lifeless dirt crumble atop the ice. "Well… another impossible foe falls to our might. The story will hardly be believable when I regale my audiences with the truth."

"If Sendai truly waits below, then she will know soon enough that her elemental prince has fallen." Sarevok grimaced. "We should keep moving. Momentum is on our side, no sense in squandering it."

The eyes of the drow narrowed… always looking for the next fight, no regard for the safety or care of the others. He turned to regard Imoen, but she was already moving, determination in her haggard features. "Sarevok's right." Imoen said, her voice shaky perhaps, but undoubtedly her. "We can't wait, or give them to regroup. We keep moving… and we don't stop until Sendai is dead."

Haer'Dalis grinned while Sarevok nodded in approval- Solaufein could only bow his head and murmur in a tone he was sure she would hear, if only just. "I am at your side, as always."

"I know…" Imoen murmured in reply as the four of them descended further and further into darkness.

X

Sendai's eyes flashed open, a small weight leaving her mind, a weight that had been there ever since the day she'd enslaved Ogremoch as her own personal servant. It meant but one thing… the Bhaalspawn drew ever nearer. The forces she'd sent above had failed. Her Elemental Prince was dead. The intruders were stronger than she had ever imagined… no! Sendai slammed a fist onto the war room central table, glaring up at her only remaining general.

"The rogue Bhaalspawn draws ever closer! Mithykyl, my ally...you must stop the fool before this goes further!"

Where once her words would have drawn immediate obedience- the telepathic reply sent by the Ulitharid creature was somehow less… sincere, than it might have been once upon a time. Was Mithykyl beginning to doubt her words? Beginning to doubt her power? No! If her mind flayers abandoned her, there would be nothing left between her and the invaders…

A few tentacles flicked her way, igniting the drow priestess' rage. "Do not wave your tentacles at me, Mithykyl! I have no other choice...my minions are slaughtered, even Ogremoch has been destroyed. If you wish to feast on the brains of those that Bhaal enslaves, you will unleash your illithid on the Bhaal-child that invades the enclave. You must not allow this interloper to reach my inner sanctum!"

Mithykyl wavered a moment longer before sliding out of the room, leaving Sendai to her own private thoughts and fears. It was becoming far too apparent that the wards of Gorion were far more powerful than any of them had assumed- Melissan included. She'd gone to great pains to assure them that their combined forces would be enough to dominate the Realms, and individually each of them could quell any rogue Bhaalspawn. So far, her prediction had been correct, but now… Sendai turned and strode back to her own private chambers, slamming the door behind her as she prepared to done her armor and weaponry. The battle would reach her, that much she was certain. When it did… for the first time in many years, Sendai felt fear.

X

"You picked one hell of a time to come down with a demon malady, you know that?" Anomen remarked, holding a moistened cloth over the top of Greywulf's forehead as the two of them remained in the back end of a cavernous plane, covered in the darkness of an ether plane yet still retaining the characteristics of one of a dozen caves they'd found themselves in throughout the years of adventuring.

"Hnh…" Greywulf murmured, his face pale and covered in beads of sweat as he lay still- conscious, if only just so. "Didn't mean to inconvenience everyone…"

Anomen smiled in spite of himself and the situation- after arriving in this rocky plane, the tiefling who had brought them there offered to bring the group to his master, so to speak. He had offered a way out, as well as a cure of sorts for Greywulf's ailment- apparently an affliction mortals suffered when exposed to demon blood or demon essence in high quantities. Having said that, the entire group had seen and felt the effects of battling through the demon brood war upon first arrival to this level of the Keep- the tiefling theorized there was something about Greywulf that was reacting differently to the demonic auras. Not that anyone had been willing to say just what that difference was to the tiefling.

"Just hold on… with any luck, Reynald and Nalia will return soon with help for you and a way out of this place as well. We are almost finished with this place… be strong, my friend. This Keep shall not conquer us." Anomen reassured him, putting the cloth away and feeling the half-elf's forehead again- still burning up, like a fire was alight inside the sorcerer's skull. He had sent Reynald and Nalia in hopes that his clerical magic might help stave off this sickness if it progressed much further- not that it had been much use before, but the hope was still there.

"Watcher's Keep… this damned place." Greywulf whispered, his eyes glazed over, the tone of delirium settling into his voice. "A crystal… crystal palace full of corpses. A king's court full of death. Nothing here but monsters and blood- Imoen. Jaheira. Failed them all…"

"Quiet your mind, Greywulf." Anomen laid both his hands on the half-elf, whispering quiet incantations as he attempted his healing magics again… no discernible difference. He whispered a prayer to Helm, hoping his companion could hold out long enough-

"No… no time for quiet. Or regret… this place is… this place was a mistake." Greywulf abruptly pushed himself up on arm, his wild-eyed gaze fixing on Anomen. "Went with you to… to… help. Not just that. Never just that- more to it. Always more to it. Bhaalspawn, the Five… didn't want it. Wanted a way out."

"Greywulf, you must settle yourself-" Anomen tried to gently press the half-elf back down, but the sorcerer pushed Anomen's arm away, a sudden intensity to his green eyes. "You must calm yourself, your fever is worsening…"

"Thought if I went with you… maybe could put off this destiny… stop the wheels of fate." Greywulf whispered, sweat rolling from his features, his skin turning paler by the second. "Jaheira… Imoen… they deserved better from me. I was afraid… so afraid that I ran here. Ran into an uncertain hell to avoid facing the one lying at the end of the war. The Bhaalspawn will never find peace…"

Anomen pushed Greywulf down again, quickly returning to another healing spell, trying desperately to cool the sorcerer's features- "Your body is overheating, Greywulf… you *must* calm down. Concentrate on my voice… this guilt you have over joining me here- all is forgiven, my friend. The others will understand... they must."

Greywulf shuddered, slowly releasing the tension in his form, growing limp on the ground again, his robes soaked in sweat. "Jaheira… my balance- beautiful perfection… I abandoned you all. I'm sorry…"

Anomen exhaled quietly, watching Greywulf finally slip into unconsciousness. It looked as if the man's fever had topped- there was little more he could do but hope Greywulf would remain sleeping and overcome the plague within his body. He braced himself and climbed to his feet, moving to stand with his hands on his hips, gazing out toward the path Reynald and Nalia had traveled with the strange tiefling. Sending those two hadn't been an easy decision, but taking Greywulf with them would have left them far too vulnerable- oh yes, he didn't need the tiefling's warning to recognize the sound of harpy screeches in the distance.

Whatever portion of the Keep they found themselves in, the landscapes were wildly different, each portion like a new realm and occupied thusly. According to their erstwhile guide, Greywulf's malady would pass in time- though the tiefling's advice was meant for a mortal, not a Bhaalspawn. Would the sickness pass slower, quicker, more painfully through the blood of a god-child? They weren't sure yet. It had obviously affected him quicker than the others- though the tiefling assured them that if they'd stayed in the demon war zone for much longer, the others would have been feeling the same effects as well.

Anomen heard another harpy screech, this one far closer than he had expected. Anomen raised his icy mace and hefted his shield, watching and waiting for an imminent attack. His eyes flitted back and forth, guard up and at full attention- nothing. The echoes began to fade into the distance- Anomen relaxed, lowering his arms. For all of Greywulf's ramblings, he had voiced a concern that the squire was certain all four of their party had felt at some time or another- whether this trek to the Keep was worth it in the end. Why had all of them gone, after all? This was a quest he was set upon by the Order, and so his motivations were simple, clear. Even so, was it about doing the right thing, stopping whatever evil lurked below? Or was it about redeeming himself and his own reputation? Perhaps a combination of both, truth be told. But what of the others?

Reynald… another story of redemption, perhaps. Attempting to reclaim a sense of purpose, of glory in a fallen past. Maybe the easiest motives to understand, but complicated by Nalia's introduction to the fray- his dedication to serving as her protection did little to hide how smitten he remained for the noblewoman. A classic boyhood tale if it turned out as well as most fairy tales tended to- a warning to up and coming squires and knights should things go poorly for the fallen paladin.

Nalia- perhaps the most inscrutable of the group, though she was not quite so secretive or clever as she believed. Anomen was no fool- even if some of the knights at the Order Hall would say otherwise. Nalia's purpose here was most certainly self-serving, though it was arguable that her end goals were worth fighting for. Still, those who sought power rarely found it in the manner of which they desired- in the end, Nalia's loyalty was not in question, nor her ability to help their cause. But when all was said and done, her true goals were not the same as his, or perhaps any of them. It would not be wise to disregard that fact.

The sound of Greywulf's labored breathing snagged Anomen's attention again- he glanced back at the half-elf, shaking his head quietly. Of all of them, he had held Greywulf's motives as the easiest to discern, though the truth was rarely so simple. A service for a service- his aid against the forces of Watcher's Keep in return for Anomen's service against the Bhaalspawn threat. And yet… his words betrayed an underlying motive, a way out for the Bhaalspawn, to put off his destiny, so to speak. It was true- the threat of the god-children dwarfed this single quest that Anomen was tasked with, and when hearing of Greywulf's own journey, he had not expected the man to aid him. It would seem the Bhaalspawn was just as prone to bouts of fear and weakness as Anomen. Granted, most people's moments of self-doubt and fear didn't lead them into a legendary dungeon constructed by Helm himself…

A blaze of light erupted around the squire as he immediately went to guard, wary of the emergence of a portal around him- Reynald and Nalia emerged, flanked by a very large, very unfriendly looking cambion- Anomen rushed to the half-demon, mace raised high-

"Stop!" Nalia demanded, raising a hand and placing herself between the cambion and Anomen. "This is Aesgareth- he is the master of the tiefling who brought us here. He and his troop and have been stuck in the Watcher's Keep for some time- they seek a way out as much as we do."

"Indeed." Aesgareth said with wide, pointed teeth. He was a tall creature, bipedal and adorned with a long fur robe with heavy plate armor beneath. A long mane of black hair flowed from his head, and his features, while angular and dark-skinned, were not enough to give away his demonic descent so quickly- it was the glowing, red cat's eyes that let the secret slip. That and the strength that allowed him to wield a massive two-handed runed blade in one hand like it was a child's toy. "So… this is the mortal who has succumbed to the demon plague? Mmm… he smells… *sniff*… different than the rest of you. No wonder his blood has reacted to this place."

"Tis true, Greywulf is no… mere mortal, shall we say." Nalia spoke- apparently she'd conversed at length with this beast- Anomen lowered his guard, if only just slightly. "Can you help him?"

"Aye, though it will take time for the illness within his body to run its course." Aesgareth rubbed his chin, baring some particularly long canine teeth. He rustled in a side rucksack that lay on his hip, pulling a vial of murky liquid out and offering it to the group. "This particular concoction does wonders for those with half-demonic blood, clearing the taints and reactions we endure when interacting for too long with our more feral kin. T'would probably kill a mortal… but your friend there? He might survive. Might."

Reynald inhaled sharply, watching Nalia take the vial from Aesgareth, hesitating only a moment before uncorking it and leaning down to Greywulf's mouth, pouring the contents in. "Nalia!" Anomen began to protest, but the deed was done- Greywulf exploded in a cough with the sudden ingestion, eyes bulging as the magical potion did its work. He turned on his side, retching once- his body collapsed into a fetal position again and went limp, but his chest continued to rise and fall with a stronger rhythm than before.

"There, you see? He shall survive. Probably." The cambion smiled, bowing gently to the group. "It will take a while longer, but he shall regain his strength. Now to business, yes?"

Nalia turned to face Aesgareth, but she did not miss the glare Anomen shot her- _We will discuss this later, my lady. Be assured of that. _"Of course- you spoke of the method of traveling around this place- the way in which your tiefling brought us here?"

"Yes, yes… this place was designed to be quite the maze… and quite deadly to anyone who found themselves within, too." Aesgareth mused, resting his chin on a clenched fist, elbow tucked in to his chest. "And as my little servant told you, this place has an aura that draws extra-planar creatures to it as well, pulling them from the ether and into this place, only to find that they, quite frankly, can never leave."

"And… the dragon?" Reynald queried.

"Hmm? Oh yes. That beast." Aesgareth laughed, though it was not exactly a pleasant one. "My little troop of travelers had quite the run in with the dragon… hmm… fifty years ago? Or was it longer? Time passes so strangely here for you Primes. I can only surmise that the Keep draws creatures from all realms- we fought with the beast long enough in that void until we found the exit, that archway you passed through."

"And how did your servant find us?" Anomen asked- despite the cambion's non-hostile demeanor, a half demon was still just that… half-demon. There would be no trust between the two parties, at least, not completely.

"Would you believe quite by accident?" Aesgareth arched a bushy eyebrow, his red eyes glinting with amusement at Anomen's obvious mistrust. "After so many *boring* years trapped in this place, I have taken to sending different members of my troupe with the skill and dexterity to remain safe out amidst the numerous planes of this dungeon. All in search for ones such as… well, such as you. Primes, with the blood we need to finally leave this place- but I get ahead of myself, do I not?"

Aesgareth reached into his robes and withdrew a large brass wand, embedded with three sparkling crystals, vertically placed upon the side of the wand. He examined it for a moment, shook it once or twice, then pointed it at the cavern wall. It sparked, and a slight hum could be heard as it vibrated in the cambion's hand- but nothing happened. He glanced at the others- "You see? For all the time we have spent here in this place, my companions and I have sought the answers to leaving, and finally discovered the secret. A wand, assembled from pieces scattered throughout each different realm of reality within this level of Watcher's Keep. The wand's handle was mounted atop the obelisk where you found the demons at war with each other- one of these crystals lay at the bottom of a whirlpool guarded by a fiend Kraken- another was scattered in the void, long ago gathered by that pesky dragon and added to his hoard. Lost two good men trying to steal this little gem away." Aesgareth mused, rubbing one of the crystals.

"To make a long story short, we did the hard part. We found all the pieces to the puzzle, put them together and were well on our way to leaving this place for good, when we found that- perhaps due to the designer of this place utilizing demons as guardians to whatever thrice-damned creature lurks below- we could not activate the portal. Like every other creature and beast here, we remain stuck, trapped forever. However, we are not full blooded demons- the magic that keeps the demonic souls trapped here and even restores their flesh once it has been destroyed would not do the same for us. We, I think would be most interminably dead once killed. In fact, I know this to be true, since Garm and Riortlath did not return from their meeting with the dragon's belly."

"And you think that because we are… primes, as you put it, the magic will work for us?" Anomen frowned, taking a moment to check on Greywulf as he listened to Aesgareth's story. "This seems uncertain… but as I'm sure my companions will tell me in a moment, what choice do we have?"

"None, at that." Aesgareth grinned. "You see, I've been here far too long, seeking one such as you to test my theories. "Now that I've found you… well, should you decide this risk is too much for you to bear, I would simply kill all but one of you and force the last to test the wand. Were that to fail, I would try using a severed hand to do so- you get the picture."

Aesgareth leaned close to them, bending down from his massive height with a growl. "Do not mistake my presence here as altruism. I am *SICK* of this place. Use the wand and open a portal- I care not how you do it, or what danger it presents to you and the other primes here."

"We intend to descend to the next stage of this Keep- are you certain that is where you wish to go?" Reynald questioned- but a vicious look from the cambion shut him up. "Or perhaps, as you say, it matters little where and how the wand takes us."

Aesgareth presented the wand- Nalia took it gently, inhaling sharply as she felt the powerful magics thrum within her hand, reacting to her mortal blood. A simple point of the instrument, a channeling of the will- a gateway opened before them, a swirling vortex ripping through time and space and leading to what looked like an inky void, flickering back and forth between images- as Aesgareth drew close to the portal, it cleared up, becoming an extraplanar cityscape… "Ah, Sigil!" Aesgareth sighed, looking through the portal with delight. "So the wand can lead to other places… though perhaps it is reacting to my presence? Would it allow you primes traversal anywhere other than the next stage of this dungeon? Bah! I care little for speculation at this point. The great city of the outer planes awaits- from the depths of my heart do I thank you for this chance. May your path lead to better fortune than that which you found in this place."

As Aesgareth began to step through, Reynald called out, "Wait! What of your companions? You said we would return to them after we were certain the magic would work and they would accompany you, did you not?"

Aesgareth laughed, shaking his head. "After spending the last several hundred years listening to the same tieflings and half-breeds whine and complain and moan over our situation… I am ready to start anew. I will find others to journey with, I think. Farewell!"

With a flash, the cambion vanished, the portal disappearing with him. Nalia blinked, looking down at the tool in her hand- this was a magical item like no other- a conduit to the very fabric of the universe, allowing for instanteous travel wherever she could envision- or did the power only work here within Watcher's Keep? The possibilities made her mind reel- no time to think it over, examine or study it- at least for now. Her goal was so near- if all her studies were to be believed- and if the cambion's words were true, spoken to her privately when she had made her bargain with the half-demon- then the goal was nearly within her grasp. Down below, in the next level of Watcher's Keep sat the Machine she'd long sought, a machine with the power to change reality, to bend the rules of the universe to suit her will- a machine to make the De'Arnise lands, the people safe forever. The power of a goddess at her fingertips… power to make the world into the better place she'd always wanted.

"Well… he was kind of a bastard, wasn't he." Greywulf's words, weakened but growing more and more clear with every passing second pulled all of their attention to him. He was raised on one elbow, eyes bloodshot and face pale… but alive.

"We thought we'd lost you for a moment there." Anomen smiled, kneeling beside Greywulf and offering him a shoulder to lean on as he attempted to rise. "I am glad to see you remain with us. Nor did I treasure the thought of having to report your demise to your other traveling companions."

Greywulf laughed, then grimaced, holding his side. "Eh… ah… not quite ready for jokes yet, I think. Still, if I'm good enough to stand… with some help… then I'm good enough to move. I've had enough of this place to last a lifetime."

Nalia smiled, pointing the wand again as Reynald and Anomen allowed the sorcerer to lean on them both- another portal opened before them, crackling with yellow lightning and energy as a massive hall and a grand contraption were made visible in the gateway before them. Nalia's breath caught as she finally took sight of her goal. The Machine of Lum the Mad was here. And by the gods, its power would be hers.

X

Balthazar grimaced as the last of the smuggler's goods were cleared from the mountain grotto, the prospective battlefield cleared and readied for the fight with the draconic invaders. The sound of another home exploding under the firepower of the dragons outside did nothing to calm the storm roiling within the monk's frame. So this was how it happened- for all the good intentions, for all the time he'd spent trying to deny the heritage of his blood, the city he'd made into a fortress, the people he'd attempted to protect from harm- all of it would burn. The rivers ran red with the blood of the innocent… and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. With Saradush he had been able to convince himself that it was a necessity- that most of the inhabitants had been Bhaalspawn like him, whose lives needed to be purged for the greater good.

Here- the people of Amkethran were simple folks. Simple peasants, men and women who had entrusted him to their safety. There was no other way to put in- he had failed. For all his efforts, even if he were to kill Abazigal and the dragons that laid siege to his city- he had failed. Even now the city burned… he felt his blood rise with rage again- no. That was not the way of his order- he calmed himself, fought to push the anger and murderous ferocity back down again. Not that his newfound 'ally' Saemon Havarian was making it any easier. The man was a thief, a murderer, a con… he deserved to die more than most, but if he could truly deliver an advantage to him against the wards of Gorion… then he could yet serve a purpose. For a time.

The rogue had been 'interviewed' by his monks on everything he knew concerning Gorion's wards and their whereabouts- it sounded as though he knew of the Bhaalspawn's companions, if nothing else- and that they were in the city now, aiding the defense against Abazigal. Melissan had said she was sending them his way- but neither Greywulf nor Imoen had been among them. This made things… interesting. Once finished, Havarian had led a dozen of his men on a foray into the city to find those who had been a part of Greywulf's companions- their task was to bring them back here, willingly if possible, by force if necessary. He had been prepared for their arrival in numerous ways- a neutral source of information, should he be able to conceal his true heritage from them, or a web to ensnare and end their threat should they deduce his own nature. But to have this new opportunity, to welcome them as aid against the forces of Abazigal- it was far too good an opportunity to pass up. Still, far before he could imagine making any of them his tools against the dragons outside the mountainside, he would need to find them. The city's defenses were all but shattered by now, of that he was certain... to find those four men and women within the ruins of Amkethran would be no easy task-

"Master!"

A shout from one of his monks got his attention- the young warrior came to him, bowing low with one fist planted against his other flattened palm. Following behind under armed guard was a drow elf, her white hair spilling from beneath her hood as she eyed her captors- if they were indeed that- with equal parts respect and annoyance. "We found this elf wandering the streets, seeking refuge from the dragon's wrath. She says she serves Sendai and was sent here as a spy-"

"I can speak for myself, jaluk." Viconia thrust her arm from the clutches of the monk, spurring a guarded response from those escorting her. A quick jab from one of the monk's to her kidneys sent her doubling over in pain before Balthazar waved them off, folding his arms as he stared the newly enraged drow down, his eyes narrow and calculating.

"You arrive at our doorstep just as we find ourselves under siege by the dragons of Abazigal. Tell me, did you come to pick our carcass clean once the dragon is through with us or to decide which of your former allies would be best to stab when the battle is over and done with?"

Viconia coughed, trying to regain her balance and wind- "My mistress sends her greetings, Balthazar… she heard of your plight against the dragons, and sent me to bring her news of the outcome." An easy enough lie- from everything she knew about the players in this particular war, it would be believable. "I would not have come here if she-"

"Enough." Balthazar raised a hand, cutting Viconia off, turning from her completely as he watched the rest of his men continue their preparations- another set of snared placed around the outskirts of the cavern openings… good. And the ballistae… smaller versions, but easily assembled here within the cavern. This… spy, or whatever she was, had little bearing on their current situation. Were he still within his meditation chambers in the main citadel of Amkethran he could have opened the ritual portal to Sendai and questioned the woman herself… it had probably been reduced to rubble at this point- along with most of the good men and women inside. The monks he'd trained at this monastery… not Bhaalspawn, not damned Children like himself… just people who wanted to follow a better path. That path- his path- had led them to a terrible place, in the end.

No… not the time for this rage, this anger. He needed self-control- a moment's worth of meditation was enough. He turned to glare at Viconia again before considering what to do with this woman. "If you are who you claim to be… and do not think that I will take anything you say at face value- then perhaps there is a place for you here after all. My forces are gathered here to make a final stand against Abazigal when he tries to claim me for his last kill. You, however, will face off against the dragon before he comes to me."

"What?!" Viconia's face was a mixture of shock and uncertainty- Balthazar gave her a withering stare, cold eyes fixing on hers without remorse. "I did not come here to fight, I came-"

"Your original purpose matters little to me now, only what you can do to help my cause. Sendai does not send weaklings to do her bidding- I assume you have some skill in combat, judging by your armaments. If Abazigal is not expecting to find drow opposition here, he may yet reconsider his siege- or perhaps, it will spur him in desperation to attack all the more quickly, in hopes of avoiding a retaliatory strike from your mistress. Or perhaps you have been lying to me this whole time and the dragon will eat you whole. I care little, so long as the greater good is served. Prepare yourself, woman. My monks will ensure your cooperation in this matter-"

"Oy, good news there my friend!" Saemon's insufferably cheery tones burst into earshot- and to his credit, Balthazar managed to suppress the urge to put a fist through the smuggler's head. He preferred Saemon when he was fearing for his life- giving him some hope of survival, however slim, had brought back the attitude of reckless merriment he found so… annoying. This- none of this- was a matter to be taken lightly. His people, the ones he'd spent his life trying to protect- they were dying out there. Being slaughtered like cattle. He was in no mood to be called to from across the room like an obnoxious town crier. His patience was growing thinner every second.

"Saemon, I hope for your sake that you have made decent use of these past few hours I've spared your life…"

The captain turned smuggler exuded an offended air for a moment, before bowing once and gesturing with a grin behind him. "I reckon you'll take quite the liking to these folks. Used to know 'em back in the day, though they might not like me as well as you'd think. A bit of a misunderstanding, I'm afraid. Found them rotting beside the corpse of that bastard child of Abazigal- looks like they put up quite the fight before takin' a fall. One less dragon for us to worry about, seems like. Good thing I found them when I did. Another couple hours they might all've been dead."

Being dragged by the arms and dropped in an unglorious thud were three- Cernd, Minsc, and Jaheira. All three were in bad shape- in Minsc and Cernd's case, it looked as if they were half-dead... the hot desert sun and the injuries sustained at Draconis' hands had taken their toll. Balthazar studied them for a moment, then looked back at Saemon. "You spoke of four companions, I see but three before me. Where is the fourth?"

Saemon rubbed the back of his neck, wincing gently. For all the times he'd betrayed these particular folks… even as he was doing right now… it wasn't personal. Never had been. Seeing the elven lass like that- damn shame, really. "Eh… we found her body…but she didn't… ah… wasn't any point in bringing her back, if you catch my meaning."

"No…!" Minsc was rising from the sands, monks immediately moving to grab his arms and restrain him- his bloodshot eyes were fixed solely on Saemon, equal parts rage and despair in his gaze. "Tell me where she is! Aerie! WHERE IS SHE?!"

Saemon bowed his head a moment, unwilling to meet the eyes of the ranger. "I'm…ah… afraid she didn't make it, mate. By the time we found you and your own, there was nothing to be done-"

A low rumble turned into a choked howl, finally becoming an inhuman shriek of pain, coming from the depths of Minsc's being. Muscles and veins bulged from his neck and arms as he charged straight for Saemon. There were no words coming from the ranger, no threats, no battle cries- only the anguished screams and strangled cries of a man pushed over the edge. Dynaheir had been taken from him by Irenicus. Now Aerie had been taken by these monsters- twice he was made a failure. Twice his charge had been killed while he was unable to help. Somewhere, something inside the ranger's mind snapped. No more holding back. No more civility, no more denying the madness lurking inside. The ranger was gone. The berserker was in control now.

For every monk that tried to hold Minsc back, he continued to push forward, throwing them off like ragdolls. There was no denying the bloodlust, the berserker rage that had taken the Rashemani. Saemon started to backpedal, realizing the mortal danger he was in- he scrambled to take cover behind the crowd of Balthazar, Viconia and the monks guarding her. Viconia watched in equal parts curiosity and horror- the ranger was a terrible sight to behold when his wrath was unleashed. But without the broken bird to calm him down, could the beast be caged again…?

It mattered little who was in front of Saemon, or where he took cover- Minsc was determined to push through whatever got in his way; despite the oncoming threat, Balthazar remained stoic, watching the events unfold. Just as Minsc broke free and attempted to barrel through them all to reach Saemon, the Bhaalspawn monk stepped in to deliver a blow to the back of the ranger's neck. Balthazar's hand was like a knife of steel, his speed inhuman- one blow was enough. Minsc slumped back down to the rocky ground, eyes rolling back in his head as the rage fled his features.

Balthazar clenched his fist, looking down at the group in frustration, then back at Saemon. So much rage in this one- if the others were in any way similar, there would be no cordial alliance, no combining of forces. So much for allying himself with these- just another waste of time and energy while the people of Amkethran- of Faerun itself- suffered these horrors. Enough. He gestured at Saemon, then Viconia. "Guards! Put those two with these others! No more distractions- the five of them will face Abazigal's forces alone- if they survive, then they gain their freedom. If not, we will lure the weakened dragons into our trap."

"What?!" Saemon shouted, his features growing pale with shock. "I must protest, sir- this was never part of our arrangement-"

Balthazar spun on his heel and towered over the rogue, his eyes narrowed in malice. All of the bloodshed, the treachery, the corruption of his blood and the consequences it brought to the rest of the Realms… enough. Time to end it all. "I grow tired of hearing your voice, Saemon Havarian. Speak again and you shall lose your tongue. I have made my decision. You wish to survive, smuggler? And you drow, do you wish to return to your mistress? You will have your chance. Kill Abazigal and freedom is yours. One way or another, this war *will* come to an end."


End file.
